


SwanQueen Halloween Anthology II

by FrankenSpine



Series: Scarytales [18]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 31 Days Of Halloween, Anthology, Blood and Injury, Dark Magic, Evil, F/F, Fear, Halloween, Halloween cranked up to 100, Haunted Houses, Monsters, Murder, NSFW, Paranormal, Part II, Resurrection, Scary, Scarytales, Sex Magic, Spooky, Supernatural Elements, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 44,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26794945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankenSpine/pseuds/FrankenSpine
Summary: Part II of the Halloween Anthology! :D
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Series: Scarytales [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1464862
Comments: 61
Kudos: 86





	1. The Basement

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting the first three chapters today :) hope you're all making the most of spooky season!
> 
> P.S. the first chapter is a little sad

Emma walked down into the dark basement with a flashlight to look for the generator. The thunderstorm had caused a city-wide power outage. As she made her way down the creaky wooden steps, a pair of glowing red eyes observed her from the darkness behind them.

She found the generator in the far corner of the room, near a stack of old cardboard boxes. It was coated in a thick layer of dust that caused her to start coughing, and that was when she heard it. A low growl, right behind her. She slowly turned around and shone her flashlight at the thing behind her. It was a thin, pale woman with murderous red eyes and sharp fangs, snarling at her.

“Oh, hey Regina,” she said nonchalantly, “I didn’t realize you were down here.”

The dark-haired woman’s face softened a bit. “The power went out,” she said quietly, “You know what the darkness does to me.”

Emma handed her the flashlight. “Here. Looks like you need this more than me.”

“Actually,” said Regina, “I was thinking I would much rather come upstairs with you.”

“It’s just as dark up there.”

Regina shook her head. “There aren’t any windows down here. Up there, I’ll have the moon,” she said, smiling fondly, “and I’ll have _you.”_

Emma nodded. “Alright. Just let me get this generator.”

She did so and headed for the stairs as Regina guided her with the flashlight. Soon they were both upstairs, and Regina clung to Emma affectionately once the generator was hooked up, and all the lights were back on.

“Thank you, Emma.”

Emma smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

Regina’s eyes gradually turned from that murderous crimson to a deep brown, and her pale skin regained a healthy complexion. Emma retained a smile, but regarded her with sad eyes. Ever since their son died, Regina had undergone some... changes. Without a source of light, she became ravenous and bloodthirsty, and her features would become animalistic, but she felt most human when she was basking in the moonlight with Emma by her side. Why this happened to her, she could not say, but she would be forever grateful to have Emma there as her anchor.

“I love you, Emma,” she murmured.

Emma kissed her sweetly. “I love you, too.”


	2. The Ninth Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the episode 'The After Hours' from the Twilight Zone.

Emma walked into Gold’s Department Store with a wide smile, eyeing all the expensive clothes curiously, though she had to remind herself she wasn’t here to browse. She was greeted by a beautiful brunette with a warm smile.

“Hello, Miss. My name is Regina. Can I help you find anything?”

“Yes, actually. I’m looking for a silver necklace for my mother. Her birthday’s coming up and I’d like to get her something nice.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” said Regina, “If you take the elevator up to the ninth floor, you’ll find our jewelry department.”

Emma smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”

Emma made her way to the elevator but faltered a bit when she saw that there were only eight floors listed.

“That’s strange,” she said under her breath, “Maybe they just haven’t added the ‘nine’ yet.”

She just shrugged and made her way into the elevator, unaware that the brunette was staring her down, and looked at the buttons. There, all alone and away from the rest of the buttons, was the one for the ninth floor. She pressed it without a second thought and the door slid shut.

When it opened again, she found herself in a dark room with no customers or employees in sight. Just a bunch of creepy mannequins all around. She frowned and let out a huff of frustration.

“What the hell?” she muttered, “That bitch lied to me.”

_“Ahem.”_

Emma jumped with a slight gasp, turning quickly to find Regina standing behind her. “What the— how did you get up here before me? I didn’t see another elevator.”

Regina just smiled at her unnervingly. “I took the stairs.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “Didn’t see any stairs, either.”

Regina ignored this and held up a silver necklace with a cross pendant. “For your mother,” she said eerily.

“What is this, lady? What’re you trying to pull? Some kind of weird prank? Well it’s not very funny.”

Regina shook her head. “It’s no joke, Emma.”

“Yeah, well— wait a minute.” Emma’s eyes widened and she started to back away. “I never told you my name,” she said nervously, “Who the hell are you?”

“I told you, my name is Regina.”

Emma quickly made her way to the elevator, but when she pushed the button, nothing happened. Her eyes were impossibly-wide and she could feel her heart racing like a stallion in her chest.

“Fuck! Why isn’t it working?!”

An unfamiliar voice responded. _“Don’t run, Emma.”_ It was a man’s voice, but Emma didn’t see any men around.

“Who said that?”

She nearly screamed when one of the mannequins, a male figure dressed like a biker, began to move. As he came closer, his features became more and more human. His eyes were icy blue, piercing her very soul.

“What are you?!” she cried.

“My name is August.” A soft smile graced his plastic lips. “You don’t have to be afraid. You’re among friends.”

“No! Get away from me!”

August looked to Regina with concern, and she merely nodded to him.

“Emma, don’t you recognize us?” the brunette asked softly.

“No! I don’t know who you people are but this has gone too far! Let me go or I’ll call the cops!”

“No one is trapping you here, Emma,” said Regina, “though we would appreciate it if you stayed. You’ve been out there long enough.”

“Out there? What the hell are you talking about?” Emma gasped when all the other mannequins began to move towards her. She frantically pressed the button, but it still wasn’t working. _“Help!”_ she screamed.

“Emma!” Regina said firmly, “That’s _quite_ enough.” She stepped closer and gently lifted Emma’s chin with her fingers. “Look at me,” she murmured, “Look closely, and tell me what you see.”

Emma’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re—” she paused and gaped at the woman in disbelief, “R-Regina? What’s going on?”

“You remember now, don’t you?”

Emma slowly nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, “I remember. I _remember.”_

Regina smiled. “So now you know why I asked you to come here?”

“Yeah. I— I’m so sorry, Regina. I didn’t mean to stay gone for so long. I forgot who I was. I lost all track of time. Can you ever forgive me?”

Regina nodded and cupped the blonde’s cheek affectionately. “Of course, darling. All is forgiven. Just try to be more careful next time.” With a wink, she pressed the button and the elevator door opened. She smiled and offered a polite wave to everyone as she stepped inside, looking hopeful. “I’ll see you all in three weeks,” she said, “Until then, August will be in charge. Try not to cause too much trouble while I’m gone.”

Everyone laughed, including Emma, though she did so in a much more reserved manner which did not go unnoticed by Regina.

“Take care, Emma.”

The door closed, and Regina was gone.

Emma let out a soft sigh, smiling faintly at August as he placed a gloved hand on her shoulder.

“What do we do now, August?”

“Whatever we choose,” he told her, “Why don’t you tell me about the outside world, hm? What was it like?”

Emma stared wistfully into the distance, looking everywhere and nowhere all at once. “It was ever so much fun,” she whispered, _“Ever so much fun.”_

Night fell and dawn rose, and up came Mr. Gold to check on the state of his mannequins. He smiled when he saw the blonde figure in the sleek red jacket.

“It’s good to have you back, Emma,” he said, “I was beginning to worry you’d never return.”

The blonde mannequin bore a plastic smile, and for a moment, it almost seemed to widen.


	3. A Familiar Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANGST!!!

It had been six months. Six months exactly, and Emma still wasn’t over her girlfriend’s death. Regina had been driving home from work in the rain and was struck by a drunk driver, dying a slow, agonizing death as her body gradually shut down from the fatal loss of blood. She was only nineteen years-old, attending community college as a business major.

Emma knew she would likely never be over it, but she at least wanted to get some sleep. She hadn’t slept well ever since that dreaded night.

She had just gotten a visit from Regina’s father, Henry, who stopped by to give her Regina’s old diary. He’d said that she may be interested in reading it, and though she was incredibly reluctant, she thanked him halfheartedly and brought the leather-bound book inside. Now here she was in her room, sitting on her bed in tears as she clutched the diary to her chest. She found so many sullen entries within it, but the things Regina had written became more uplifting after the two of them began dating.

Unable to cope with the stress, Emma pulled on a hoodie, popped some headphones in and cranked the volume up high as she headed outside to take a walk. She didn’t care that it was raining. She needed to get some air. She wasn’t really thinking about her destination. She didn’t exactly have one in mind. Even so, she eventually found herself at the cemetery. Tears welled in her eyes as she realized where she’d come.

She considered turning and leaving, but her feet had other plans. They forced her towards Regina’s grave and she fell to her knees in broken sobs.

“Regina,” she wept, _“Gina._ God damn it, why’d you have to leave me?! Why did this have to happen?! I don’t know if you can even hear me, or if there is such a thing as God, but if he’s real, and if he can hear me, he can go fuck himself! Why’d he take you from me, huh?! To punish me?! You always said you believed in a higher power, but God doesn’t give a fuck about anyone but himself! Why the hell should he?! He’s omnipotent or something. Isn’t that what people always say?” She shook her head and wiped her tears on her sleeve. “I don’t know why I’m even here, talking to your grave. It’s not like you can say anything back.”

In that moment, something in the distance caught her attention and she looked up to see something that made her heart sink and her eyes grow wide with shock and disbelief. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. There, standing beneath a tree on the opposite end of the cemetery, was a brunette with a silky red blouse, a black skirt that reached past her knees, and a matching pair of heels.

It was Regina, dressed in the very outfit she’d been buried in.

Or at least, Emma thought it was, but then she blinked, and the figure was gone. Seeing this only upset Emma further. She squeezed her eyes shut and a quiet whimper escaped her as she quickly shook her head.

“No,” she muttered, “No, no, no, this isn’t happening. It’s all in your head, Swan. She isn’t really there.”

That was where the madness began.

For weeks on end, no matter where Emma went, she would catch a glimpse of her dead girlfriend. Each time she tried to get a better look, the figure would vanish, and each time she saw the apparition, it would grow closer than before. She tried to tell her parents, but they were sure she was just grieving in an unusual sort of way. Maybe she was, but she wasn’t really convinced that this was the truth.

On this particular day, it was raining just like it had been when she visited the cemetery, and Emma found being followed by the thing wearing her girlfriend’s face. She started to run, and the imposter gave chase. Eventually, in an effort to lose her pursuer, she ended up in the middle of the woods, looking all around for any sign of the figure. She was nearly blinded by her own tears, which she supposed was the reason she didn’t notice the brunette walk up behind her. It was only when she backed into something solid that she spun around with a sharp gasp. She stared at the creature in sheer terror, unable to comprehend why this was happening, and how it was even possible.

“What the _hell_ are you?” she whispered, “Why do you— Why do you look like _her?”_

The thing with Regina’s face studied her intently, and was silent for a moment more. “You must forgive me,” it said at last, and it spoke in an all-too familiar voice that left a sickly feeling in Emma’s stomach, “I sense this form causes you a great deal of anguish. It was not my intention to further your grief.”

To say that Emma was confused was a painful understatement. “I— I don’t understand,” she murmured.

The faintest hint of a smile graced the being’s plush lips. It was Regina’s smile, that was for sure, but whatever lay beyond was not the girl Emma remembered.

“I am not of this world,” the creature said in a monotone voice, “but I mean you no harm. I am merely here to observe the behavior of humans.”

“Are you saying you’re an _alien?”_

“I suppose I am, if that is the term you wish to use. I needed to blend in, and so I scanned your thoughts, for you were the first human I encountered. This body was what I saw when I glimpsed into your mind, but I see now that perhaps I should have chosen differently.”

“So you’re— not really her? You’re not a ghost?”

“I am not,” said the being.

“What do I call you?”

“It matters not. My kind do not have names.”

“Well, how do you identify each other?”

“By scanning one another’s thoughts,” the creature said matter-of-factly, but did not explain further, “You are called Emma Swan, yes?”

“Uh, yeah,” Emma said quietly, dumbfounded. She hesitated. “So, um, can you choose a different form?”

“Not until the next cycle,” the being explained, “That would be approximately one year from now, in your time.”

“Oh,” Emma said dejectedly. She hung her head in shame and defeat. “Well, what will you do now?”

“Do you wish for me to leave? I sense you are conflicted about my appearance.”

Emma was silent for a moment. “You look like my dead girlfriend,” she said.

“I see,” said the being, “Forgive me. This must be quite difficult for you.”

“That’s an understatement.” Emma looked at the figure with uncertainty. “So, um, what happens now?”

“I will leave you be. It is clear that my presence is causing you a great deal of emotional distress. That is not my intention, and I will do so no further. Goodbye, Emma Swan.”

The being turned away and vanished into thin air before Emma could even think to say a word. What if someone saw the creature? More importantly, someone like Regina’s father. How was she ever going to explain this to him? Emma just stared off into the fog, unable to comprehend the situation.

She eventually found herself back at the cemetery, but was no longer in tears. She didn’t feel like crying. She’d done that enough already. Instead she smiled faintly.

“At least _some_ version of you can live on,” she murmured, “If you’re out there somewhere, Regina, I want you to know that I’ll never stop loving you.”


	4. The Dark Swan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!!! Dom/sub + magic cock and slight dub-con.
> 
> If that's not your cup of tea, feel free to wait until I post tomorrow's chapter :)

Regina had done everything necessary to activate the spell. She had used salt to create a pentacle on the floor, placed lit candles of various colors at the five points of the star, and she had her spell book laid out before her. Closing her eyes, she took a slow, deep breath and looked down at the book. Then she began to chant.

“Here I sit on this cold, dark night, embraced by the magic of the moon’s stark light. Dark Swan, I summon thee, and I demand that you honor and serve me, for it is I who calls on you from the depths of Hell. Obey and serve, and serve me well.”

To her amazement, a thick plume of crimson smoke began to rise up from the center of the pentacle, and when it cleared, there stood an imposing figure. It was a woman dressed all in black, with silver hair and deathly pale skin that seemed to shimmer in the candlelight. The intimidating woman narrowed her eyes at Regina.

 _“You_ are the one who summoned me?” She began to laugh, which Regina did not appreciate. “Foolish girl! You know not what you do. Do not mess with this sort of magic.”

“Don’t mock me, demon! I summoned you here for a reason!”

“And what reason might _that_ be? To do your schoolwork for you? To complete your chores? Or do you wish for me to walk your dog?”

Regina glared daggers at the demon. “No!” she snapped, “I want you to torment those who have wronged me!”

“Is that so? And what have these people done to you, exactly?”

Regina grit her teeth and tightened her fists. “They harass me in school,” she said, “They _humiliate_ me! They always corner me in the hallways and in the bathroom, and they pull all sorts of cruel tricks! I need them to suffer for what they’ve done!”

“How old are you, girl?”

“I just turned eighteen. My father’s gone and my mother kicked me out, and now I have _nothing! No one!_ Please, I need you to help me!”

The Dark Swan’s eyes narrowed. “You have summoned me, one of the most powerful demons in existence, to take care of some high school bullies?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes! I command you to do so!”

The demon was having none of this. She stepped out of the pentagram, much to the shock of the young witch.

“W-What?! That’s impossible! You’re not supposed to be able to do that!”

“Yes, well, it may be difficult for others, but as I said, I am no ordinary demon.” The Dark Swan reached down and grabbed Regina by the shirt collar and pinned the frightened young woman up against the wall with a devilish grin. “And I will not allow any human— especially the likes of you— to give _me_ orders. I am not your pet, little human,” she said, “but you shall soon be mine.”

Regina’s eyes widened in horror and she let out a sharp gasp. “What are you gonna do to me?” she whispered.

“I should be asking _you_ that,” said the demon, “What will you do to make this trip worth my while, hm? It costs me a great deal of energy and strength to cross the Rift. I want to enjoy every moment.” She released the trembling young woman and a chilling smile crept onto her painted lips. “It is you who will serve _me_ tonight, girl.”

* * *

Regina was on her knees with her eyes squeezed shut as the Dark Swan drove an enchanted cock down her throat. She winced when the demon grabbed a fistful of her hair, forcing her head back. Now the Dark Swan’s throbbing cock was hitting the back of her throat at an entirely new angle, resulting in a number of involuntary sounds that left her feeling equal-parts humiliated and aroused.

“Suck my cock, you little slut,” the demon hissed. She grinned wickedly when Regina obeyed and stroked the brunette’s hair almost affectionately. “Yes, that’s it. Fuck, I can see how wet you are. Your thighs are glistening. I can _smell_ your arousal, you dirty girl. I’d ask if you have anything to say for yourself, but it appears your mouth is a bit occupied.” She laughed heartily at her own joke. “I would even go so far as to say you’re a little _tied up!”_

With a wave of her hand, the Dark Swan bound Regina’s wrists behind her back with invisible chains. The demon laughed maniacally, only to pause suddenly when there was a loud banging coming from the apartment above.

 _“Keep it down in there! People are trying to sleep!”_ someone shouted.

The Dark Swan narrowed her eyes and flicked her wrist, sending a shadow demon to haunt the tenant in his sleep. She turned back to Regina with a sly grin.

“Now then, where were we?” she purred.

* * *

Regina’s face became a deep shade of red as she was bent over the Dark Swan’s lap with her pants down to her knees. The demon smacked her ass, thankfully still shielded by her underwear, but the sting caused her to flinch.

“Someone needs to be punished,” the Dark Swan husked, “It’s time you learned not to fuck around with demonic forces.” She spanked Regina again and again in rapid succession, reveling in the quiet whimpers that escaped the young woman. She paused, however, when she heard a soft moan. “You’re turned on by this, aren’t you? You really _are_ a naughty girl.”

The demon continued to spank the brunette until Regina was in tears and pleading with her to stop.

“Please! Please, just stop!”

“Promise me you won’t summon me again— not for this petty nonsense,” the Dark Swan said sternly, _“Promise me!”_

“I— I promise I won’t! Never again!”

The Dark Swan just nodded. “Very well.” She ran her hand over Regina’s ass-cheek in a slow, circular motion as if to provide some semblance of comfort. “That’s right, girl. You’re never going to summon me to this world again.” She grinned, revealing a sharp set of fangs. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t return of my own accord. I rather enjoyed teaching you a lesson, little human.” She gripped Regina’s chin and let out a quiet chuckle. “I look forward to fucking that pretty mouth of yours again.”

Regina’s blush deepened, which the Dark Swan found amusing. “Yes, well, maybe I’m just as eager.”

“Oh, I know you are,” said the demon, “which is why I’m going to leave you with _this.”_ She grabbed Regina’s wrist and a black, metallic cuff appeared around it. Etched into the iron band was the shape of a swan. “You belong to me now, girl, and this will be your permanent reminder. Try to remove it, and it will go right back onto your wrist. Do you understand?”

Regina could only nod. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Yes, what?”

“Um, yes ma’am?”

The Dark Swan chuckled and shook her head, leaning in to whisper in the brunette’s ear. “Call me _Mistress,”_ she breathed.

Regina bit her lip. “Y-Yes, Mistress.”

The demon patted Regina’s face gently. “Good girl,” she murmured, and then, as quickly as she’d appeared, she vanished into thin air.


	5. Stepmother

Things were alright in the beginning, when Emma and Regina were merely dating. Regina would often come over with games and books for Emma’s timid young son, Henry, and cook extravagant meals that wouldn’t last more than a day or two amid the three of them. The future seemed bright. Henry almost believed they could be a family.

But that all changed once Regina popped the question. Emma was overwhelmed, but jumped at the chance and the two were getting married down at the courthouse the following morning. Regina moved in, and days turned into weeks, then weeks into months, before it all went downhill— at least for Henry.

He was awoken in the dead of night by a sound, faint but still loud enough to draw him into awareness. He crept out of his room and down the short hallway towards the kitchen, where he noticed the light was on. He wasn’t sure what time it was, exactly, but it had to have been close to midnight. He paused when he saw Regina standing there at the counter, her back turned to him as she fumbled with something just out of view. Before he could even think to speak, the brunette seemed to sense his presence and turned to face him with an unnervingly-wide smile that most certainly did not reach her eyes. It made her seem twisted, like some kind of ghoulish mannequin.

“Regina?” he mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes, “What’re you doing in here? It’s, like, the middle of the night.”

“I was about to ask you the same question, dear,” the woman replied, “I was merely having a midnight snack. Can I get you anything? A glass of water, perhaps?”

“Um, no thanks,” said Henry, “I’ll just go back to bed now.”

He turned away and tried not to shudder as he felt Regina’s intense gaze burning into the back of his head. Once he was around the corner, he quickened his pace and locked the door the second he stepped into his room. He thought about going back to bed and convincing himself the whole encounter was a dream, but then he heard footsteps padding down the hall and he froze, listening closely as Regina went back to her and Emma’s bedroom. He heard the distinct click of the door and breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

Ever so slowly, he unlocked the door and opened it just enough so that he could poke his head out. The kitchen light was off and there was no sign of his stepmother. The coast was clear. He crept back out into the hallway and tiptoed towards the kitchen where he used the dim light of his phone to look around. He went straight for the counter where Regina had just been. He didn’t find anything at first, as the countertop appeared completely spotless, but that in and of itself was odd. It had been quite messy before. Why would Regina want to clean up in the middle of the night? That didn’t make sense. What Henry found even more confusing was the condition of the knife block. One of the knives, the largest of the bunch, was missing. His eyes grew wide with alarm. He looked in the sink and in the dishwasher, but both were empty and neither held the absent knife.

He returned to his room and grabbed his old spy kit from the closet and rummaged through it to find the camera. He eventually did locate it and hid it atop the china cabinet, just out of sight near a bowl of plastic fruit but still able to capture the activity within the kitchen, even in darkness. Once he connected the camera footage to his computer, he climbed under the covers and finally allowed himself to close his eyes.

When he awoke the following morning, the first thing he did was check the camera footage. Nothing. Nothing at all. He huffed in frustration but knew he couldn’t give up. He would repeat the process again that night, and for several nights after, in the hopes that he could find _something._

He didn’t have to wait long. Two nights passed, and Henry’s slumber was disrupted by that same faint sound he’d heard before. He shot out of bed and went over to his desk to check his laptop, watching from the safety of his room as Regina stood at the counter once again. Henry’s brows furrowed as he watched her cleaning something. His blood ran cold when he realized what it was. The missing kitchen knife. Regina slid it into the knife block nonchalantly and went to leave the kitchen, but then she paused, and what she did next sent a chill of utter terror running down the boy’s spine.

Regina turned, ever so slowly, and stared directly up at the camera. And then she smiled in a way that left Henry in a panic. He shut his laptop and quickly jumped back under the covers, turning so that his back was to the door and staying as still as he possibly could. He heard the door creak open and caught a glimpse of the woman’s faint silhouette in the window’s reflection. She said nothing, but Henry knew she was staring him down, and that told him more than enough. Then, just like that, she turned and left the room, gently closing the door behind her, and Henry began to sob uncontrollably.

* * *

The following morning, Henry realized he wasn’t feeling well and when his mother took his temperature, it was apparent that he was running a fever. Emma offered a sympathetic smile and patted his cheek.

“Why don’t you get some rest?” she said softly, “Stay home today. I’ll be by during my lunch break to check on you, but I’ve gotta go now, alright?”

Henry nodded absently. “Okay,” he said, sniffling.

He went back to bed and collapsed onto the mattress, and he must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, he was being awoken by the sound of his door opening. He groaned as he rubbed his eyes.

“Is it noon already, Mom?” he mumbled.

 _“Why yes,”_ came a voice, one which most certainly did not belong to his mother.

Henry’s eyes flew open and became wide as they met those of his stepmother. She smiled in a way that he supposed was meant to appear loving, but once again, it didn’t reach her eyes. It seemed _wrong._ That was the only way Henry could think to describe it. Just plain _wrong._

“Where’s Mom?” he asked her with a frown.

“She couldn’t make it. Her boss wanted her to work longer hours today. She’ll be home a bit later than usual,” said Regina, “but she asked me to come and check on you. How are you feeling, Henry? Better, I hope.”

“No,” said Henry, “No, I _don’t_ feel better! Why did you have that knife last night? And why were you cleaning it?”

“Oh, so that _was_ a camera I saw,” said Regina.

“You’re dodging the question!” Henry burst into a coughing fit and fell back onto his bed.

“Henry, relax,” the brunette told him, “You want to know why I had the knife? I was cutting up some meat in the garage a few nights ago and forgot to bring it back inside.”

“What kind of meat?”

“Pork.”

“Show me.”

“What?”

“I want to see this _meat.”_

“Darling, I think it’s best that you stay in bed—”

“No! I need to see it!” Henry insisted.

Regina just sighed. “Alright then,” she said, “Follow me.”

Henry did so, and Regina led him out into the garage where a large freezer was sitting in the far corner. The brunette opened it up and inside were several large packages of frozen meat.

“You see? Pork. I’m not sure what you were expecting, Henry, or why you felt the need to film me, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do this again.”

“And what if I did?” Henry challenged.

“Well, I suppose I would have to tell Emma.”

“You mean you haven’t already?”

Regina shook her head. “I thought it best that I handle things with you before I went to her. Doesn’t that seem fair?”

“I— I guess so,” Henry said reluctantly, “but why were you doing all that in the middle of the night?”

“Because like you, I wasn’t able to sleep, and I find it much easier for me to focus on getting things done at night. I can’t quite explain why, but it’s always been this way for me.”

In that moment, Henry almost started to believe her, but when he looked deep into her eyes, he saw only deceit.

* * *

That night, Henry couldn’t sleep. He’d done enough of that already. He was starting to feel better, so he got up and collected the camera from the shelf where he’d left it, surprised that it was still there. Why hadn’t Regina taken it? He tucked it into his pocket and snuck out into the garage to take another look at the _pork_ Regina had been cutting. When he opened the freezer, however, he was stunned to find that it had all disappeared. The freezer was completely empty.

“What the heck is going on?” he whispered.

He gasped when he heard the side door start to open and ducked down behind the freezer. His heart was pounding like thunder, and he feared whoever was there might hear it. Of course, he already had his suspicions about who this person might be, but it was confirmed when he heard his stepmother humming an unfamiliar tune. She walked right past the freezer and into the house, and Henry let out a sigh of relief.

He waited behind the freezer for another ten minutes before slowly heading back inside. His heart just about stopped when he saw Regina standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with her arms folded. She did not look pleased.

“What’s going on, Henry?” she asked him.

Henry frowned. “I should be asking you that!” he snapped.

“Keep your voice down. Your mother’s had a long day and she needs her rest.”

Henry’s fists tightened in anger. “Don’t pretend like you care about her!”

“But I _do_ care about her,” said Regina, “I love her very much. That’s why I married her. This, however, needs to stop. What were you doing out there behind the freezer?”

“How did you—”

“You aren’t as good at hiding as you think you are.”

“Well what were _you_ doing?” Henry countered, “What happened to all the meat?”

“I was bringing it to a friend’s house. He doesn’t have much food in the pantry so I dropped it off.”

“It’s the middle of the night!”

“Yes, and my friend is a night owl. He asked me if I could bring it over.”

“Who is he?”

“You wouldn’t know him.”

 _“Who is he?”_ Henry asked again.

“His name is Killian. Happy now?”

Henry said nothing more. He just left the kitchen and went to his room, locking the door and leaning a chair under the knob to prevent anyone from opening it.

When morning came, Emma and Regina left for work and Henry found himself alone at home yet again, still not entirely over his sickness. Eleven-o’clock rolled around and Henry went into the living room, peering out the window to see if his stepmother’s Benz was still in the driveway. When he realized it wasn’t, he let out a sigh of relief and went back to his room to throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He rushed out the front door and checked the mailbox, knowing the mail should have come by now. Inside was the weekly paper. He grabbed it and hurried back into the house, and once he got a proper look at the headline, his eyes grew wide with horror.

**_FIVE POLICE OFFICERS MISSING WITHOUT A TRACE_ **

“Missing cops,” he whispered, “Cops. Pigs.” He gasped in realization. _“Pork!”_

He had to do something about this. He raced into the garage, grabbed his bike, and rode two blocks to the police station. When he walked inside, he was greeted by the old secretary, Ms. Lucas, whom he’d known for years.

“Hello, Henry,” she said pleasantly, “What brings you here? Skipping school?”

Henry was panicking. “I haven’t been feeling well,” he said, “but I think my stepmom has something to do with the missing officers. I had to tell someone about it.”

The smile fell from the old woman’s face. “Miss Regina? Why, she couldn’t hurt a fly! What makes you think she’s got anything to do with this?”

“She’s been sneaking out in the middle of the night lately and I saw her cleaning off a missing kitchen knife, and she’s acting so weird! Can’t you at least look into it? _Please?”_

“Well, I’ll have to ask Sheriff Humbert,” said Ms. Lucas, “Why don’t you have a seat?”

Henry did so and fidgeted impatiently until the old woman returned with the rugged-looking Sheriff.

“Hello, Henry,” said the Sheriff in a light Irish accent, “Why don’t you step into my office, hm?”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

The Sheriff almost seemed amused, as if he’d just heard a funny quip. “So you think your mother has something to do with these disappearances?”

 _“Step_ mother,” Henry corrected, “and _yes—_ Yes I do. I think she killed those officers and cut them up. She had all this meat in the freezer two nights ago, but last night it was all gone and she came home in the middle of the night. I don’t know where she really went, but she said she dropped it off at a friend’s house. Some guy named _Killian.”_

The smile fell from the Sheriff’s face immediately and he leaned forward. “Killian Jones?” he quizzed.

“Um, I don’t know, maybe. Regina never actually said his last name.”

“Well, I’d like to look into this, regardless,” said the Sheriff, “I’m going to pay Mr. Jones a visit. In the meantime, I’d like you to stay inside, alright? I’ll drop you off at your place. I promise I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.”

“You should also keep an eye out for Regina’s car. She might be up to something.”

“Will do, lad. Let’s get going.”

* * *

Soon, Henry was back in the house, peeking out from between the blinds in the living room like a paranoid hermit. He was searching for any signs of his stepmother, but found none. Eventually, Emma came home for her lunch break and walked in through the front door, surprised to find Henry sitting there, wide-eyed.

“Henry? What are you doing out of bed? Are you feeling better?”

“Physically, yes.”

This concerned the blonde. “But not mentally?” she asked.

Henry shook his head and bit his lip. “Mom, I need you to listen to me,” he said, “It’s serious.”

“What happened?”

“I, um— I think Regina might be a serial killer.”

_“What?”_

“She’s been sneaking out in the middle of the night recently and I saw her cleaning off the missing kitchen knife, and then there was the meat in the freezer—”

“Henry, what’s gotten into you? Regina was just dropping off that meat at her friend’s house. You see, his family isn’t as fortunate as ours.”

“But why was she doing it in the middle of the night?! Who does that?!”

“She told me he was a night owl.”

“And you _believed_ her?”

“Well, yeah. I used to be a night owl myself. Besides, she’s my wife. I’m not going to question every little thing she does, and I’m _definitely not_ about to accuse her of being a serial killer, Henry.” Emma frowned a bit. “Have you said anything to her about this?”

“No! Well, not about the missing cops.”

“You’d better not,” said Emma, “I can’t force you to like her, Henry, but I _do_ expect you to show her some degree of respect. She’s your stepmother now, whether you like it or not.”

* * *

Sheriff Humbert never reached out to Henry, which is what led the boy to have some peace of mind, thinking that nothing was amiss at Killian Jones’ house, but that was before the next newspaper came in the mail.

_**SHERIFF FOUND DEAD IN CORNFIELD** _

Henry’s heart sank and his blood ran cold. “Oh my God,” he whispered, tearing up, “She killed him. She actually _killed him.”_

 _“Who killed who?”_ It was Regina.

Henry gasped and looked up to see the brunette standing in his open doorway, smiling at him in a way that made him increasingly-uncomfortable. The fear on his face shifted into a look of primal fury. He jumped out of his chair and began shouting at her.

“You killed the Sheriff! Just like you killed all of those other cops! ‘Pork,’ you said. Real clever! You killed them and cut up their bodies! Let me guess, your friend Killian is a cannibal! Is that it?! Do you kill people and make mince-meat out of them?!”

Emma came storming into the room. “Henry! What the hell are you doing?! That is _enough!_ Regina is _not_ a serial killer!”

“But it’s too convenient to be a coincidence!” Henry argued, “It makes too much sense for her to be the one murdering people!”

“God damn it, Henry! She’s not killing anyone!”

“How do you know that?!”

_“Because it’s me!”_


	6. The Red Door

Henry stared up at the ancient house with uncertainty. It looked like it was about to cave in on itself, and probably should have been condemned long ago, yet his great-grandfather Leopold had left it to his mother in the will. So now this was where he would be living, at least until the structure collapsed, which Henry doubted would be much longer.

“Come on, Henry, help me unload the car,” said Emma.

Henry did as he was told and carried box after box into the house until everything was inside— and then he had to take all his things up the creaky staircase, fearful that the wooden steps would splinter and crack beneath him and send him falling into a dark abyss. Thankfully, no such thing happened. He made it upstairs in one piece and was fortunate enough to have his mother there to help him.

Once all his belongings were in his new room, he slowly started to unpack while he zoned out to the music blasting into his skull from his wireless earphones. He hadn’t told his mother about his newfound fascination with _$uicideboy$,_ thinking she would get the wrong idea and send him to therapy. It was better that she didn’t hear what they had to say. She would never understand.

They ordered cheese pizza that night and ate their fill while they watched scary movies in the living room, fitting considering the state of their new home, and seeing how it was now the Spooky Season. Afterwards, Henry grew tired and made his way up the stairs towards his room, closing the door and collapsing on the bed.

He dreamt of an eerie red door, surrounded by fog in a dark space. He felt himself approaching it ever so slowly, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. He heard the soft voice of a woman murmuring in the back of his mind.

_“Let me out. Please, I don't want to be in here any longer.”_

Henry awoke with a gasp. It was now morning. He climbed out of bed and went downstairs. His mother had already gone to work at her new job, so he munched on some leftover pizza for breakfast and decided to explore the creepy house. He hadn’t seen all the rooms yet and felt better about doing so in daylight. The first place he went was up to the attic. Nothing was up there aside from some old stretched canvases, mostly blank but some half-painted.

Henry wasn’t interested in that sort of thing so he opted to visit the basement next. What he saw when he got down there left him speechless. There, across the dimly-lit room, stood the same red door from his dream.

“What the hell?” he whispered.

For reasons he couldn’t understand, he found himself moving towards it and before he could stop himself, he reached out to turn the knob. It was like he was being controlled, as if he was a puppet. Luckily, it was locked, and whatever force had come over him vanished right there and then. Even so, he heard a hauntingly familiar voice in his head.

_“Find the key, dear child.”_

Henry backed away quickly, feeling fearful, and raced upstairs. He slammed the door and pressed his back to it, panting heavily. He needed some air, so he went outside and decided to roam the neighborhood. A block away, he encountered a red-headed boy of about ten drawing on the sidewalk with chalk. The boy waved to him and smiled.

“Hi!”

“Uh, hey,” Henry said awkwardly.

“I’m August! I’ve never seen you around here before.”

“Yeah, well, I just moved here yesterday. I’m Henry, by the way.”

August’s smile became a fearful expression. “Y-You didn’t move into the haunted house, did you?”

“Haunted house?”

“You know, that old Victorian house? They say a woman died there like a hundred years ago!”

Henry raised an eyebrow. “They?”

“Everyone in town! I bet you can find old articles about it at the library!” said August.

“Maybe I will,” said Henry.

* * *

Henry scoured the old archives for any information he could find regarding the creepy old house. He couldn’t quite bring himself to call it home just yet.

_108 Mifflin Street. Built in 1886 by Alphonse Blanchard, husband of Maria Blanchard (née Ralph) and father of Leopold Blanchard._

Henry frowned. “Come on, there’s gotta be more to it than that.” He needed to dig deeper if he wanted answers.

_In 1911, at age twenty-five, Leopold Blanchard became a licensed medical doctor. Four years later, in 1915, he married a young heiress, Regina Mills. They lived in the Blanchard residence on Mifflin Street for twenty years before Regina Mills-Blanchard passed away from an unknown illness on August 15th, 1935. Leopold later remarried and had a daughter named Mary Margaret with his second wife, Eva Blanchard (née Stern)._

“That’s it?” Henry muttered. He looked for more information but found nothing substantial and let out a heavy sigh. “This was a waste of time.”

He left the library and walked all the way back to the eerie house with his head hung in defeat. He tried distracting himself by watching TV, but there was nothing good on and he just couldn’t stop thinking about that door in the basement. Where did it go? And how was he supposed to open it?

Out of nowhere, a vision of a black key flashed through his mind. He wasn’t sure where it had come from, but something told him it was a sign. He needed to find this key. Perhaps that was the answer he’d been looking for.

He rummaged through every drawer in the house until he came upon an old dresser in his mother’s bedroom. He felt weird looking around in there, but it was the one place he hadn’t checked. At long last, after several long hours, he found it. There, tucked away in the back of the lowest drawer, was the very key he’d seen in his inexplicable vision. He grabbed it and reluctantly made his way down into the creepy basement, tugging at the cord to turn on the dim overhead light. There stood the red door in all its ominous glory. It almost seemed to mock him, and that made him angry.

He slowly approached the door and took a slow, deep breath before pushing the key into the hole and twisting it. There was a distinct _click,_ and the door creaked as he opened it up. Inside was a small room, lit only by the faint light from the main area, and in that room was a broken crib, numerous boxes, and a small wooden rocking horse. Henry frowned in a mix of confusion and aggravation.

 _“That’s it?_ Are you kidding me?” He let out a huff and turned away, enraged. “I wasted all that time just to find this junk?!”

 _“It isn’t ‘junk,’ child,”_ came a soft voice from within the darkness, _“This was meant for my son, but I never got the chance to meet him.”_

Henry froze dead in his tracks, hesitantly turning back around to find a sullen woman with dark hair and eyes in an old-fashioned dress. Her body shimmered with an otherworldly aura, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, Henry did not feel nearly as frightened as he probably should have been.

“Wh-Who are you?” he whispered.

A sad smile graced the woman’s painted lips. “My name is Regina Mills,” she told him, “I know you read about me in the archives.”

“You’re a— a— a _ghost.”_

Regina nodded. “I’m afraid so,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean _you_ have to be afraid. I will do you no harm, little one. You see, I’m quite lonely down here, and I’ve always adored children. Alas, I was never able to have any of my own. Mr. Blanchard and I tried for years but the closest we ever got was with our son, Daniel. Alas, Daniel did not live outside the womb.”

Henry was overcome with a feeling of sadness. “I— I’m sorry,” he told her, “That must be so awful.”

“Yes,” murmured Regina, “but you see, Mr. Blanchard and I did not have the most loving marriage. He blamed me for the death of our son, and so I paid the price with my life.”

Henry’s eyes widened. “He _killed_ you? But the article said—”

“Yes, well, Leopold Blanchard was a wealthy man. He paid the journalists to claim my death was of natural causes. In truth, he killed me with an untraceable poison, one he had easy access to at the hospital. He was a terrible husband, and even worse a man. May he rot in Hell.”

“Well, um, how come you’re still here?” Henry asked her.

“Unfinished business, I suppose. I wasn’t sure what the reason was before, but I suspect I was kept on this earth to share the truth of my passing. Even if no one else knows, at least you will, dear boy.” Regina moved closer and placed her hands on Henry’s shoulders. “I never did get your name, child.”

“It’s, uh, Henry. Henry Swan.”

Joyful tears welled in Regina’s eyes. _“Henry,”_ she murmured, cupping the boy’s face, “That was my father’s name.” She smiled faintly. “How old are you, Henry?”

“Fourteen.”

“You don’t like it here, do you?”

“I might like it a lot more if it didn’t look like it was gonna cave in.”

Regina chuckled. “This house is much sturdier than it looks, I assure you. Leopold may have been an incompetent, egomaniacal charlatan, but his father was a very intelligent man, and a wonderful carpenter. I never could understand how such a kind man could have created such a monster.”

“I guess sometimes the apple really _does_ fall far from the tree,” said Henry.

* * *

Days passed, and Henry spent each night staying up late and talking to Regina about all sorts of things. He even taught her to play Mario Kart while his mother was away at work. When the weekend came, he confined the spirit to his room to avoid suspicion. They read books together and played board games. Henry was having more fun in the past few days than he had in many months. One rainy morning, Henry’s mood became sour yet again, and it didn’t take long for Regina to notice.

“Henry? What’s wrong?”

“Today’s the anniversary,” Henry said with a sigh.

“The anniversary of what?”

“My dad’s death.”

Regina placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Oh, darling, I’m _so sorry._ Is there anything I can do?”

“Just sit here with me. I’d rather not be alone today.”

Regina nodded. “Of course. I’ll always be here for you when you need me,” she promised him.

Henry stayed in his room that day, only coming out to use the toilet. He didn’t eat anything until his mother came home with Chinese food, but he didn’t touch much of that, either. Emma placed a hand over his and offered a sympathetic smile.

“I miss him, too, kid,” she said softly, “We’ll get through this, I promise.”

When Henry trudged back up the stairs to his room, he collapsed onto the bed with a heavy sigh and broke down into tears. Regina pulled him into her arms and held him in a warm embrace as he sobbed openly.

“He left me,” he said, “I know it wasn’t his fault, but he just went away, and he’s never coming back.” He looked to Regina with bloodshot eyes. “Please don’t leave me, too.”

Regina hugged him a little tighter and kissed his temple. “I promise I won’t,” she assured him, “Not ever. I know we’ve only known one another for less than a week, but I’ve come to see you as the son I never had. I hope that isn’t too forward of me.”

Henry smiled faintly. “No,” he whispered, “I think it’s nice.” His eyes slipped shut as he rested his head on Regina’s shoulder. “Thank you, Regina.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”

“I hope it’s not too soon to say I love you.”

Regina smiled even as tears slipped down her cheeks. “It’s never too soon,” she murmured, “I love you, too, sweet Henry.”


	7. The Cottage

Emma rode her horse through the mud, scanning the dark forest for shelter to escape the wrath of the thunderstorm. She spotted a small cottage with a barn out back and came to a halt at the door. She jumped off of her horse and knocked loudly on the door in desperation. After a few moments, the door opened and an older woman with dark hair stood there, blinking at her in surprise.

“Oh my, you’re soaked to the bone!”

“Please, ma’am, may I put my horse in your barn for the night? I’ve got nowhere else to go. I can sleep in the loft. I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.”

“You can stay in the house tonight. No need to sleep out in that old barn,” said the woman, “but yes, of course you can put your horse there. I’ve got some stew cooking. I’ll get you some dry clothes.”

“You’re very kind, ma’am. I can’t thank you enough.”

Emma hurried to put her horse in one of the stalls out in the barn and rushed back towards the cottage. Once inside, the older woman offered her a towel and some dry clothes, as promised.

“What’s your name, Miss?” asked the woman.

“Emma.”

“Just Emma?”

“Emma Nolan.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Emma Nolan. My name is Regina Mills.” Regina filled two bowls with hot stew and set them out on the table. “So, what brings you all the way out here in this weather?”

“I’ve been away from home for quite a while,” said Emma, “but I’m on my way back for my mother’s funeral. I was told she died from a fever.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I lost my father the same way.”

“Maybe one day we can change that,” Emma said hopefully.

Regina smiled faintly. “I certainly hope so,” she said, “Why don’t you get changed in the washroom and join me for supper, hm? I’m actually glad you’re here. I could really use the company. I haven’t had a visitor in _so long.”_

“You’re here all on your own? No husband?”

“No, no, I never married. I was engaged once, but my fiancé was stabbed in the heart. That was so long ago, but it still hurts to remember.”

Emma grimaced. “Christ, I’m sorry.”

Regina just nodded. “Thank you.”

Emma went to the washroom and changed out of her wet clothes into the ones Regina had given her. She wrung out her hair over the tub until it was damp and returned to the main room to sit at the table. Her stomach roared as she smelled the hot stew.

“This smells incredible. Just like my mother used to make.”

“Thank you, dear.”

Emma ate her stew quickly, and Regina filled her bowl a second time without being asked. Once again, she emptied it in minutes. The brunette started to refill it a third time, but Emma politely declined.

“As delicious as that is, I’m afraid I can’t eat another bite.” Emma patted her stomach and chuckled. “Thank you very much, Miss Mills. You’re too kind.”

The older woman smiled. “Call me Regina.”

* * *

That night, as Emma tossed and turned on the pile of old quilts and pillows in front of the fireplace, she dreamt of a beautiful brunette who seemed oh, so familiar, with the exception of sharp fangs and glowing red eyes. She envisioned the dark-haired beauty straddling her and sinking those pearly fangs into her neck, though she didn’t feel pain or fear. Only pleasure.

She awoke at dawn, moaning softly as she was drawn back into awareness. She sat up and looked around in confusion, having momentarily forgotten where she was. She felt a bit light in the head, and there was a dull ache in her neck. She rubbed it absently, pausing when she realized there were two small bumps that hadn’t been there before.

 _“Good morning,”_ came Regina’s voice, startling her.

“Huh? What? Oh, good morning,” said Emma. She stood up and concealed the bumps on her neck with her golden tresses. She smiled when she smelled meat cooking. “Whatcha cooking over there?”

“Sausage and scrambled eggs. Hungry?”

“Oh yes, please, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Regina smiled warmly at the blonde. “Not at all. You just have a seat and I’ll bring it out shortly.” The older woman hummed a nameless tune as she went about cooking breakfast, and within twenty minutes, she brought two plates to the table. “Oh my, I forgot to get the water. Would you be so kind as to fetch some from the well? It’s just out front.”

Emma stood up and nodded. “Gladly.”

She went outside and grabbed the old wooden bucket resting on a stump. She filled it up and carried it back inside.

“Just set it on the counter. I’ll get us some cups.”

Regina found a couple of tin cups in the pantry and filled them up. She gave one to Emma and the two of them ate together on comfortable silence.

Emma sighed happily as she finished her plate. “I hate to leave you so soon, Miss Regina, but I’ve got to get back on the road. I’ll leave these old clothes in the washroom and be on my merry way.”

“Nonsense,” said Regina, “You can keep them.”

“Are you sure?”

Regina nodded. “I’ve got no use for them. They’re not my size. Besides, your other clothes are still damp. Put those back on and you’ll catch a cold.”

Emma couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you very much, Regina Mills. You’re too kind.”

She helped clean up and gathered up her wet clothes, wringing them out a little in the yard before going to fetch her horse. She tucked the damp clothes away in an empty saddlebag and led the yellow mare out of the barn. As she stepped back into the little cottage, she noticed something she hadn’t before. All the wisps of silver in Regina’s hair had vanished. She wasn’t sure what to make of this, but didn’t question it for fear of sounding completely insane.

She wanted to say goodbye to Regina before heading home, but she couldn’t find the woman anywhere. At last, she came across the older woman in the back room. It was dark and dusty, as if the room hadn’t been occupied in a hundred years. Emma frowned a bit, squinting to see.

“Regina?”

 _“Yes, dear?”_ Regina replied strangely, her back turned to Emma.

“I’m, uh, heading out now. Just wanted to thank you again, and say goodbye. I hope we’ll meet again someday.”

 _“Leaving me so soon? But I only just got to taste your sweet,_ sweet _blood.”_

Slowly— ever so slowly— Regina turned around, and Emma’s blood ran cold as she saw a pair of sharp fangs and murderous red eyes that glowed in the darkness. The brunette charged towards her like a vicious predator. A scream of terror rang out in the little cottage, but died down quickly, and then there was silence.

* * *

Weeks later, an older man on a horse came riding through the woods during a violent thunderstorm and came across a small cottage. He stopped and knocked at the door, and it was soon answered by a beautiful young woman with dark hair and eyes. She smiled at him with her painted lips.

“Why hello, Mister,” she purred, “Would you like to come inside?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” said the man, “Is it alright if I put my horse in your barn?”

“Certainly! I’m making some stew. I’ll fill a bowl for you.”

“That’s very kind of you, Miss...?”

“Regina,” said the woman, “Regina Mills.”

The older gentleman smiled and tipped his hat to her. “David Nolan,” he told her.

He failed to notice the crimson gleam that sparked in her eyes as he led his horse to the barn out back. When he returned to the cottage, Regina offered him a set of dry clothes and a steaming bowl of stew.

“You can change in the washroom,” she said, “I can’t have my guest shivering in such wet clothes.”

David thanked her and went to get changed. As he did, he happened to look in the cracked mirror above the sink and noticed a familiar red coat hanging on a hook behind him. He frowned in confusion and worry.

 _“Emma,”_ he whispered.

When he returned to the table, he found Regina smiling at him in a way that he might not have thought twice about had he not seen the coat, but this unnerved him. Even so, he put on his best poker face and helped himself to the hot stew he’d been offered. It tasted quite strange, but not exactly unpleasant. Just unlike anything he’d had before.

“What sort of meat is this?” he asked, “It’s _different.”_

Regina’s smile widened a bit, revealing what David swore looked like fangs. “Horse,” she told him, “I find it _quite_ appetizing.”

“You eat horses?”

“Not until recently.”

David swallowed nervously. “Well, um, you haven’t seen a yellow horse around, have you? Or better yet, a blonde woman by the name of Emma? She was supposed to come home for her mother’s funeral, but she never showed up.”

Regina shook her head. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t.”

David’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so? Well, care to explain to me why her coat’s hung up in your washroom?”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. That coat’s been there for years.”

“Bullshit!” David stood up quickly, drawing the gun at his hip and aiming it straight at the woman’s head. “Where is she?!” he demanded, “I made her that coat with my own two hands! What the hell did you do with my daughter?!”

“Oh, so she was your daughter? I can certainly see the resemblance.” Regina laughed even as David cocked the hammer on his gun.

“Answer me, God damn it! What kind of monster are you?!”

Before the man could even think to react, Regina grabbed his wrist and snapped it back at an unnatural angle, breaking it. He cried out in pain and the revolver clattered onto the table. Fear masked his face as the brunette’s hand, now sporting razor-sharp claws, clutched his throat and began to squeeze the life out of him. He saw dark spots in his vision, and just when he thought this was the end of him, the beast let go.

But then she sank her fangs into his neck and he cried out into the night, his anguish falling on deaf ears as the thunder roared outside.

* * *

Sometime later, Regina was standing over the boiling pot of stew with a smile, humming a nameless tune as she stirred the fresh meat. Horse was quite good once it was enhanced with the right spices and herbs. She’d considered making human stew, but she found it much too gamy. Not nearly as tender as the flesh of a steed. Her smile widened when she heard an animalistic growl come from beneath the floorboards and she turned to see the trap door begin to rattle below the armchair. She pushed the chair aside and opened the trap door just a crack, smiling fondly at the murderous red eyes that glared at her from within the darkness.

“Are you hungry, Emma?” she cooed, “The stew is nearly ready, I assure you.” Another growl came from somewhere beyond. “Don’t be so impatient, David. I promise, I’ll get you some more blood soon. I just need you to behave for now. Until then, you’ll have to stay down there.”

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Regina grinned.

“Well, well,” she murmured, “I suppose it won’t be long now, after all.”


	8. A Nightmare on Mifflin Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't wait to post this one so I decided to upload it at exactly 12:00 AM on October 8th. This went in an entirely different direction from what I originally had planned but I honestly like this MUCH better. Also I changed the title from 'The House on Mifflin Street' to this because I just couldn't help myself. Enjoy >:)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay spooky, boys and ghouls ;D

The masked duo broke through the back window of the abandoned house and quickly climbed inside. The first one inside discarded his mask, panting heavily as he helped his friend get through.

“Easy now,” he said, “Don’t cut yourself on the glass, love.”

“I’m doing my best,” said his partner-in-crime. She landed on the dusty floor with a thud and groaned. The man bent down and pulled her mask away with a jovial smile.

“We did it, Emma. The big bad wolves outran the little pigs.”

Emma laughed as the man helped her to her feet. “Yeah, but we cut it pretty close there, Killian.” She brushed herself off and looked around curiously. “God, what a dump. How long do you wanna hang around this shithole?”

“Just for a little while,” said Killian, “Then I’ll call Neal and August and we’ll ride separately. Those cops won’t suspect a thing. We’ll just need to lay low for a bit.”

Emma nodded. “Right.”

She gasped when she heard something shuffling around upstairs and exchanged a look of worry with Killian. They nodded to one another and drew their guns as they crept slowly towards the staircase.

“I’ll go up first,” Killian whispered, “Watch my back.”

Emma did as he said and the pair made their way up, but halfway to the top, the steps began to creak, and they both grimaced as they froze dead in their tracks. They waited for someone to come storming out of one of the rooms, but nothing happened.

“Probably just an animal or something,” said Killian.

“Yeah,” Emma said with uncertainty, _“Something.”_

Killian swallowed nervously. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got a bad feeling about this place.”

Emma considered teasing him, but she was just as uneasy, so she just nodded and they started heading back down.

“I’ll call the others. You watch for cops.”

Emma nodded absently and went towards the front of the house to peer out through one of the boarded windows. She didn’t see any signs of cops, or anyone else for that matter, and breathed a small sigh of relief.

“The coast is clear, Killian.”

It was then that she realized she hadn’t heard him making any sort of phone call and slowly turned around. He was nowhere to be found, but his cellphone was lying in the middle of the room on the floor. A faint voice was emanating from it. Emma looked around in a panic.

“Killian?”

No answer.

She reluctantly picked up the phone. “H-Hello?”

_“Emma? Oh, hey, it’s Neal. Is Killian there?”_

“He— He was just a second ago,” Emma stammered, “I-I don’t know where he went.”

_“You alright? You sound spooked.”_

“Yeah, um, we found this creepy old house. I guess Killian’s just playing some stupid prank on me or something.” She turned away from the phone for a moment. “It’s not funny, Killian!” Again, no answer. She shuddered and put the phone back up to her ear. “Sorry about that. Can you and August hurry up and get here? It’s 108 Mifflin Street. This place seriously gives me the creeps, and you know I don’t scare easily.”

_“Don’t worry, Emma. We’re on our way.”_

Emma hung up with a trembling hand and decided to look around a bit more. Killian must have been hiding in one of the adjacent rooms. The closet, perhaps, or maybe there was some sort of secret passage behind the old bookcase. She pulled at each and every book, but her efforts were in vain. She even tried tugging at the small lamp built into the wall, but again, nothing happened.

“Killian! Where are you?!” she shouted, understandably frustrated but also fearful.

 _“I’m afraid he’s gone, dear,”_ came a woman’s voice.

Emma nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun around on the heel of her boot and found herself face to face with a beautiful brunette, but there was something about this woman that just seemed off, not counting the fact that she was hiding out in this dump.

“Wh-Who the hell are you?” Emma demanded, aiming her gun at the woman with a trembling hand.

The brunette calmly approached and placed her hand on the barrel of the gun, gently pushing it to the side. Emma was too shocked to react, much less stop her.

“Where the fuck is Killian?” Emma whispered, “What’d you do to him?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” the woman responded with a wicked grin.

Suddenly, Emma felt something drip onto her forehead and she frowned, thinking there was a leak. When she wiped it away, however, she saw a sticky scarlet substance on her hand and her heart sank.

“What the fuck?” she rasped.

With great reluctance, she slowly looked up and what she saw caused her to scream in sheer terror. There was Killian, staring down at her with fear frozen on his face in a silent scream. His neck, wrists and ankles were bound in what looked like piano wire, suspending him in the air like a demented marionette. Blood dripped from his slashed throat and cheeks. It almost looked like he was smiling. His eyes were blank and void of life. He was dead.

 _“KILLIAN!”_ Emma screamed.

The brunette’s maniacal laughter rang out through the old house, even as Emma fired three rounds at her. She didn’t even flinch, and her laughter grew more twisted once Emma was out of ammo.

Emma tried to make a run for it, but the window was suddenly back in one piece, and before she could bust it open with the butt of her gun, a piano wire wrapped itself around her throat like a vicious serpent, slicing her neck open as it dragged her backwards.

* * *

Neal and August looked around suspiciously as they made their way to the back of the old house.

“Jeez, this place is fucking creepy,” said Neal, “Why the hell would they wanna hide out in here?”

August shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, “but it’d be a great setting for a horror novel.”

Neal patted him on the shoulder. “Go for it, buddy. Just help me pry these boards off first, _Stephen King.”_

August found an old tree branch nearby and used it to pry away the rotting wood. “How’d they get in here, anyway? All the doors and windows are boarded up.”

Neal shrugged. “Beats me.” He took the branch from August and smashed in the back window, pushing all the glass shards out of the frame so as to not cut himself. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

The duo climbed in through the window and looked around in confusion as they found two masks on the floor along with a cellphone, but no sign of Emma or Killian.

“Guys? It’s Neal and August! Where you at?”

There was no response.

“Hey, you two, quit screwing around! Oh God, don’t tell me you’re getting it on in a dump like this!”

Neal started making his way up the stairs and August reluctantly followed after him.

“I don’t like it in here.”

“Yeah, me neither. The sooner we get outta here, the better,” said Neal. As he reached the top of the staircase, he saw that the door to his left was ajar and pushed it open abruptly. “Come on, you guys, let’s—”

He froze in a mix of confusion and fear.

“What the actual _fuck?”_

August frowned and peered over Neal’s shoulder. “What? What is it— oh my _God.”_

The entire room was filled to the brim with dozens of demented looking puppets on strings, two of which were positioned near the head of the bed. Neal and August exchanged a mortified glance.

“Is it just me, or do those things look like—” Neal couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence.

August swallowed. “Emma and Killian,” he whispered.

Neal shuddered. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. They can find their own way home.”

August was hesitant, but followed Neal back downstairs anyhow. “Right,” he muttered.

The two of them quickly climbed back out the window, unable to shake the feeling that they were being watched.


	9. Succubus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!!!

Emma smiled as she climbed beneath the covers. It was raining heavily outside, and her roommate had gone out drinking with a handful of friends. She had the apartment all to herself tonight and was going to enjoy every moment. She set her _sexy time playlist_ to ‘shuffle’ and enjoyed the music as she reached into her nightstand to retrieve her favorite toy. She gasped and moaned softly as the vibrations made her shudder in delight.

“Oh _fuck,”_ she whispered, “That’s good.”

She closed her eyes and bit her lip as she brought herself closer and closer to the edge, and just as she was about to climax, she felt a sudden breeze and opened her eyes, thinking she must have left a window open, but then she saw it. A woman standing at the foot of her bed, completely nude with large, black wings resembling those of a raven.

The winged woman had dark hair and eyes, and her very presence exuded sex appeal. Emma should have been terrified, but instead she felt only temptation. The brunette’s painted lips curled into a sly grin.

“My, my,” said the winged woman, “What have we here?”

Emma moaned uncontrollably as she reached her climax. Lust burned in the stranger’s eyes.

“W-What are you?” Emma rasped, “How’d you get in here?”

“I’m what you might call a _succubus,”_ said the woman, “and your sexual energy summoned me here.”

“Well it’s never done that before,” Emma told her.

“That’s because you’ve never pleasured yourself during a full moon.”

“I— huh. Weird.” Emma was bewildered by her lack of fear. “Why do I not feel afraid of you?”

“Because I did not come here to frighten you,” the Succubus purred, climbing up onto the bed towards the stunned young woman, “I came to feed on your desire.”

She pulled back the covers and ogled Emma’s body. The blonde was wearing only a t-shirt and lacy red underwear. The Succubus placed a hand on Emma’s slick thigh.

“You’re wet,” she husked, “Allow me to bring you some relief.” She waved a hand and Emma’s underwear vanished into thin air, causing the blonde’s face to redden. “No need to be embarrassed, my dear,” the winged woman purred, “It’s just us tonight.”

Emma’s eyes grew wide as the Succubus’ lips met hers in a hungry, dominating kiss. Moments later, she felt a warm tongue sliding through her slick labia and leaned back with a sigh of bliss. She set her toy aside and reluctantly reached out to run a hand through the brunette’s swarthy locks. The Succubus’ eyes flickered from brown to purple as Emma met her gaze.

“Fuck,” Emma breathed, “Oh _God!”_

“Don’t bring _him_ into this,” said the Succubus, “I told you, it’s just you and I right now.”

She continued to lap greedily between Emma’s thighs, making the blonde writhe and moan in sheer pleasure.

Emma felt as though the Succubus was devouring her, perhaps even consuming her very soul in such a crude yet incredible manner. If the price of such delicious debauchery was her mortal soul, then so be it. The Succubus seemed to be able to read her thoughts.

“I do not deal in souls,” rasped the brunette, “though yours is quite radiant, my dear.”

She winked up at Emma and resumed her ministrations until she felt the blonde’s arousal coat her lips, tongue and chin. They both moaned simultaneously, sighing in bliss as they eventually came down from their orgasmic highs.

Emma was lying there with her eyes closed, panting heavily. The Succubus watched her for a few moments, debating on whether or not to leave despite having gathered enough sexual energy from her. Emma opened her eyes and smiled softly at the brunette.

“Sticking around?” she asked.

“I— I feel a strange attachment to you,” said the Succubus, “Something I’ve never felt with anyone else before.”

“Well maybe I’m just that charming,” Emma said with a grin.

“No, no, this is something else entirely.” The Succubus’ eyes widened in realization. “You aren’t entirely human, are you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The Succubus shook her head. “No, don’t you lie to me. I _always_ know when people are lying.” She moved closer to the blonde and took in Emma’s sweet scent. “You’re a mare,” she whispered, “and yet, what you have given me is _far_ from a bad dream.”

To the Succubus’ confusion, Emma began to laugh darkly, and her eyes flashed from green to yellow, becoming serpentine. Her teeth grew into long, sharp fangs as she bared them with a vicious hiss.

“That’s what you think, _succubus.”_

The Succubus’ eyes widened and she tried to flee, but the Mare grabbed her by the ankles and pinned them against the bed, trapping her.

“Let me go! You’re only supposed to prey on humans!”

Once again, the Mare laughed wickedly. “I do enjoy scaring humans, but there is no such law, you foolish thing.”

She grabbed the Succubus’ face and the brunette fell into a sudden sleep, collapsing onto the bed while the Mare filled her mind with horrific visions of death and destruction.

 _“Oh, how the tables have turned,”_ said the Mare.


	10. Chernobog Lake

Emma and her friends were sitting around a bonfire near the infamous Chernobog Lake, drinking beer and overall having a good time.

“Tell us a story, Emma,” said Neal, “It’s almost Halloween, and I know how much you love scary shit. Make us jump out of our skin, will you?”

Emma smiled faintly as she stared into the crackling fire. “Alright,” she said, “Do you all remember the Curse of Chernobog Lake?”

“That old wives’ tale?” asked Neal, “I’ve heard that a thousand different times in just as many ways.”

Emma’s face seemed eerie in the flicker of the flames. “But have you heard the _real_ story?”

Neal folded his arms. “Everyone claims their way of telling it _is_ the real story.”

“Well I can assure you that this one is the real deal,” Emma said confidently, “It all began twenty-eight years ago today. Regina Mills was only seventeen when she died. She was out swimming in the lake with her classmates on Senior Skip Day. They were all getting drunk and hooking up, too busy to notice she’d gone too far out into the water. By the time she realized how deep the water had gotten, it was too late for her. She screamed for someone to help her, but everyone was either too drunk or just too apathetic to do anything. Well, _almost_ everyone. Only one person actually gave a shit and jumped in to help her, but sadly, their efforts were in vain. Regina was already gone.”

“And how exactly do you know that’s the official story? Were your folks there or something?”

“I wasn’t finished,” said Emma, “The person who tried to save her also drowned, but was completely forgotten about. They became a footnote in the history of the lake. No one even remembers this person’s name. What a shame.”

“Well then how do _you_ know about ‘em?” asked Neal.

Emma’s smile became unnerving as she stood up and poured her drink into the fire, making the flames rise and roar. Everyone jumped back a bit and glared at her.

“What the hell, Emma?!” Neal snapped, “What’re you trying to do, kill us?”

“Maybe I should!” Emma said bitterly, “Just like your parents let Regina die! Just like they let _me_ die!”

Lightning flashed in the distance, despite there being no prior storm, and in an instant, Emma’s appearance went from young and lively to decayed and monstrous. The others screamed in terror and went running, but Emma was able to grab Neal and drag him into the murky water, kicking and screaming.

“Let me go! Let me go, you evil bitch!”

His pleas for mercy were cut short as his head was dunked into the lake and pinned there until he was no longer struggling. His body went limp, floating there for a moment before the water began to ripple and bubble, and up from beneath the surface came the decayed figure of a teenager with dark, stringy hair that dripped endlessly. She looked to Emma with a smile, though it came off as more of a snarl given the state of her rotting face.

“Thank you, Emma,” she rasped.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you that day, Regina.”

“Don’t apologize. You did all that you could.”

The brunette brought her skeletal arms around Neal’s floating corpse and slowly pulled him down into the water.

 _“See you soon,”_ she whispered, and then she was gone, as was the high schooler’s body.

After a while, the ripples ceased, and Chernobog Lake was calm once more.


	11. The Prisoner

Emma sat in her prison cell, silent and still as she received yet another tattoo. Another tally mark— number thirteen, to be exact, as that was how many years she’d been locked up. They said she was a murderer, but they were wrong. Dead wrong. Even so, she had a permanent reminder of how she’d been wronged. Thirteen of them, right on her upper left arm. It was over as soon as it began, but the pain lingered in the form of a dull ache. A hot cat scratch. Nothing she couldn’t handle.

“What’dya think, Swan?” asked the self-proclaimed artist.

Emma smiled faintly. “It looks great, Lily. Thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll see you around, kay?”

Emma nodded. “Kay.”

Lily gathered her makeshift machine and casually walked back to her own cell at the other end of the hall so as to not draw suspicion. She was lucky, because just a few minutes later, a guard approached Emma’s cell at a brisk pace.

“Swan,” the guard said sternly.

“Yes?”

“You’ve got a visitor.”

Emma’s brows furrowed. “My parents?” she wondered aloud. This shocked her, as they hadn’t bothered to come see her in all the years she’d been locked away.

“How the hell should I know?” the guard retorted, “Come on.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but went with the woman anyhow. She was made to walk in front of the guard, which pissed her off to no end. She was not a murderer. She would not stab the guard in the back if she’d been walking behind the woman.

The pair eventually made their way to the visitation area where several other prisoners were conversing with their loved ones. Emma looked around but did not see her parents, which saddened her, but she supposed this wasn’t all that surprising in hindsight. They hadn’t visited her in thirteen years. Why start now?

A dark-haired woman in a black pantsuit stood up from a table in the back of the room and offered a small wave and a faint smile to Emma. The blonde sized her up and down with mild suspicion but approached her with caution.

“Who the hell are you?” asked Emma.

The brunette chuckled. “Hell, indeed,” she said softly, extending her hand, “My name is Regina. I’d like to get to know you, Emma.”

“And how exactly did you get onto my contact list?”

Something flickered in Regina’s dark eyes. “I have my ways,” she said cryptically.

Emma would be lying if she said she wasn’t unnerved. _“Right,”_ she said, reluctantly sitting across from the brunette, “So, uh, what’s this about? Are you a lawyer or something?”

“Something like that.” Regina lowered her voice. “I’m going to help you get out of here.”

Emma blinked in surprise and confusion. “What? How?”

“Don’t you worry about that right now. All you need to know is that I’ve got your back, Emma Swan. I know you didn’t kill that boy. You could never hurt a child, much less take the life of one.”

Emma folded her arms. “Yeah well, no one else believes that.”

“What they believe now will soon be irrelevant,” said Regina, “because in a day's time, you will be a free woman.”

“The courts don’t work that quickly, lady. You must be delusional.”

“Who said anything about the courts?”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at?”

Regina leaned forward, just a little, but still just enough to make Emma uneasy. “I’m going to bust you out of here,” she whispered.

“That’s not going to clear my name.”

“Oh, but it will, I assure you,” Regina said confidently, “because you and I are going to track down the real killer and get a confession out of him. One that will give you a brand new shot at life. A clean slate, if you will.”

Emma was visibly suspicious. “What do you get out of all this? We don’t even know each other.”

“I know you better than you think,” said Regina.

Emma scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“No, no, I mean that.”

“Well, that’s fucking creepy, and I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but this conversation is over, lady.”

“I introduced myself as Regina,” said the brunette, “but you know me by a different name.”

“Oh yeah? And what name is that?”

A wicked grin spread onto Regina’s face, and her eyes flickered from brown to blood-red.

 _“I’m the Devil,”_ she hissed, baring her sharp fangs.

Emma’s eyes widened in terror and she fled from the room in a panic, only to be apprehended by the guards.

“Swan! No running! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“Th-That bitch is crazy! She’s a fucking monster!”

“Calm down, Swan, or we’ll send you to solitary!”

Emma did her best to remain calm as she was escorted back to her cell, but she couldn’t stop shaking. She couldn’t think straight after that. She couldn’t sleep that night, either, at least not very much. Any sleep she did get was plagued with haunting visions of those godforsaken eyes and— holy hell— that _voice._

At the stroke of midnight, she sensed she was being watched and looked up to see a familiar figure watching her from the shadows across the way. Her heart sank when she noticed the figure’s glowing red eyes.

 _“I’m the Devil,”_ Regina had said.

Now Emma was truly beginning to wonder if this was actually the case. She squeezed her eyes shut and rolled onto her side, doing everything in her power to ignore it, but the Devil’s voice still echoed in the dark depths of her troubled mind.

_“Do not fear me, for I mean you no harm. I wish only to help you, Emma Swan. For a price, of course.”_

Emma didn’t need to be told what that price was. She already knew the answer, and that terrified her.

* * *

The following morning, Emma was awoken by the sound of shouting, along with the distinct _click_ of the lock on her cell door. The bars clanged loudly as the door was thrown open and the guard from before was aiming a gun straight at her head. Emma’s eyes grew wide with fear as she realized what was happening and she threw her blanket off in a flash.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Emma shouted.

“Get up!” demanded the guard, “Get the hell up, Swan! You’re coming with me!”

Emma’s knees trembled as she stood up and raised her hands above her head, but then the guard got her in a headlock and pressed the cold barrel of the gun against her temple. She was forced to walk out of the cell while the rest of the prisoners looked on in shock and outrage.

 _“What the fuck?!”_ someone yelled, _“What the hell’re you doing, you crazy bitch?!”_

 _“You can’t do that!”_ shouted another, _“She’s a human being!”_

The guard ignored them, ushering Emma through the visitation area and past the security desk. The old woman behind the desk was mortified by the scene before her.

“Robins?! Robins, what the hell are you doing?! Have you gone insane?!”

The guard’s eyes flashed from icy blue to murderous red, and a wicked grin made its way onto her pale face.

 _“Hell indeed,”_ she said, leading Emma towards the front door, “Open the gates! Open them or I’ll blow this bitch’s brains out! I know the last thing you sons of bitches need is a fucking lawsuit! The prisoners’ll riot and this place’ll shut down for sure!”

The other guards reluctantly obeyed, and the female guard forced Emma out of the prison gates and onto the curb where a white panel van awaited them. The back doors opened and Emma was shoved inside, grabbed by two men with guns.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?!” Emma shouted, now in tears.

The guard slammed the doors shut and her eyes reverted to their normal blue before she collapsed onto the sidewalk, completely unresponsive. The van sped away, tires screeching, and practically soared down the street and around the corner.

“Wh-Who are you?” Emma sobbed, “Where are you taking me?”

One of the men regarded her with a sympathetic expression. “Don’t worry, Emma. We’re not gonna hurt you. We serve the Mistress.”

_“Mistress?”_

“The Queen of Darkness,” said the other man with the stubbled face, “The one you know as _Regina.”_

“S-So it’s true then? She’s the— the— _the_ _Devil?”_

Both men nodded in unison. _“That’s right,”_ they said.

“And who are you guys, then? Demons?”

The two men exchanged a brief glance before turning back to her. _“That’s right,”_ they repeated.

Emma must have fainted, because the next thing she knew, she was waking up in the back of a yellow Volkswagen bug as it peeled out of a parking lot. In the driver’s seat was not either of the self-proclaimed demons, but a familiar brunette who was eyeing her in the rearview mirror.

“Ah, so you’re finally awake. I was beginning to think you might never come around.”

“Where are you taking me?” Emma asked with a groan, “What happened to those two demon guys?”

“They’re disposing of the van, but you need not worry about them.” The brunette smiled softly. “As for where we’re going, I have a safehouse up in Maine. We’ll be hiding out there for a bit to avoid the police. In the meantime, I’m going to help you clear your name.”

“You know who the real killer is, then?”

“Of course.”

“Who is it? Is it someone I know?”

Regina hesitated. “Yes,” she said softly, “His name is Robert Gold.”

Emma’s blood began to boil and her eyes were impossibly-wide. If she clenched her teeth any harder they would have shattered like glass.

“The fucking _prosecutor?!”_ she screamed.

The brunette merely nodded. “Yes. I must confess, I don’t normally get involved in mortal affairs, but this, I could not ignore. You see, the man you know as ‘Robert Gold’ is actually a demon called _Rumplestiltskin._ He escaped from Hell nearly a hundred years ago and has been wreaking havoc on Earth ever since. I’ve looked everywhere for him and have only recently learned of your sentence. In any other circumstance, the price for my assistance would be your soul, but in this case, Miss Swan, I will let you keep yours. All I ask for you in return is that you aid me in tracking down Gold, and that you never mention a word of this to anyone.”

“Why do you need my help finding him if you already know where he is?”

“Because I know how badly you want to see him suffer, and I’m always willing to grant people a means of revenge.” Regina’s eyes flashed red as they locked with Emma’s in the mirror. “So,” she said, “do we have a deal?”

Emma could only nod. “Yes,” she whispered, “Just promise me you won’t aim any more guns at my head.”

The Devil chuckled. “I swear it on the River Styx.”

And there it was, the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Or perhaps something _more._


	12. The Camera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by 'Ratched,' the show that's so uncomfortable to watch yet strangely addicting.

Henry shone his flashlight around in the dark hallway of the old asylum and his eyes were drawn to something small and black. For a moment he thought it was a dead rat or something, but as he stepped closer, he realized it was a video camera. He picked it up curiously, noting how thin the layer of dust on it was. It must not have been there very long, so it seemed there was a good chance it still worked.

“Hello?” he called.

There was no answer, but Henry felt a sudden draft and shuddered involuntarily. A sense of unease and dread washed over him, and he decided it was best to get out of there— and _fast._ At least he’d found _something,_ but why would the camera’s owner leave it behind in a dump like this? He tucked the camera in his backpack and climbed back out the window he’d entered through, hopping on his bike and high-tailing it out of there.

He made his way back home within twenty minutes and hurried upstairs to his room. He retrieved the camera from his bag and hooked it up to his computer to download all the footage. His heart raced with excitement, dying to know just what was on the hard-drive. He would soon come to wish he’d never touched the damn thing to begin with, much less set foot in that godforsaken place.

_On the screen was a teenage girl with blonde hair and a red jacket. She seemed thrilled to be on camera, given the gleam in her eyes, or perhaps that was just the glow of the flashlight reflecting in them._

_“Hey guys, welcome to another exciting episode of Mysteries in Maine,” she said into the camera, “As you know, my name is Emma, and as always, I’m joined by my awesome camera man, August.”_

_The camera panned around to reveal the stubbled face of a blue-eyed boy with dark hair. He smiled and waved at the lens._

_“Sup, dudes?”_

_He and Emma laughed before trying to regain their composure._

_“Today we’re exploring the infamous Storybrooke State Hospital, located in— you guessed it— Storybrooke, Maine,” Emma explained, “This place was shut down back in the 80s due to severe overcrowding, a lack of funding, and the horrible mistreatment of its many patients, or if you ask me, its_ victims. _Some believe the souls of these victims still roam the halls, and that it is cursed by the spirit of the hospital’s most notorious nurse, Regina Mills. They say she performed up to three-hundred lobotomies in her lifetime— possibly even more. Today we’re going to find out if we can make contact with any of these spirits, and maybe, just maybe, receive a visit from Nurse Mills herself.”_

_Emma turned and started walking through the dark hallway with her flashlight, and August followed, keeping her in the center of the shot. As they rounded a corner, the sound of a squeaky wheel rang out through the empty corridor and both teenagers froze. Emma looked mildly alarmed, gesturing for August to aim the camera to the right. There, at the end of the wing, was an old hospital bed that seemed to be rolling ever so slowly out of one of the rooms._

_“Jesus, that’s creepy,” Emma said in a whisper, as if not wishing to be heard, yet she was as daring as ever, “Let’s go check it out.”_

_She started walking towards the hospital bed, and August seemed to hesitate for a moment before Emma gestured for him to hurry. He did so reluctantly and moved at a slower pace than his companion. They approached the room where the bed had come from and found an old rocking horse in the corner near the cracked, boarded window. There were also some wooden blocks scattered around._

_“Room 104. Okay, so it looks like this may have been a child’s room,” Emma said, seeming genuinely upset by this, “I can’t imagine what kind of pain this kid must have gone through, and to be honest, I don’t think I—”_

_She froze suddenly and stared, wide-eyed, into the camera._

_“August, look at the rocking horse,’ she whispered frantically._

_The boy did as she said and showed the old rocking horse moving on its own. “M-Maybe it’s just the wind,” he said._

_“There’s no wind in here,” Emma insisted._

_“Are you sure?”_

_“I don’t feel any wind. Do you?”_

_“Well, no, but—”_

_“‘But’ nothing, August. Let’s move on. This place is even creepier than I imagined.”_

_Suddenly there was a loud_ CRASH _from one of the rooms a few doors down, closer to the opposite end of the wing. Emma stared into the camera with uncertainty, but tried to put on a brave face and slowly crept towards the room, peering into it reluctantly._

_“This is— This is room 108,” she said, sounding somewhat fearful, “I heard this was where Nurse Mills did all her lobotomies.”_

_She slowly entered the room and August begrudgingly followed suit, capturing the dusty room, the cold metal table in the center, and the table of several old medical instruments, on camera. Emma hesitated a moment before reaching out to retrieve one of the instruments._

_“What is that, a screwdriver?” August asked her, shuddering at the thought of what it might have been used for._

_Emma shook her head. “No, no,” she said. There was dread in her voice. “It’s— an ice pick.” She took a slow, deep breath and grimaced. “This is what doctors used to do lobotomies with.” She hesitated. “I guess I should’ve prefaced this before, but, uh, this is about to get a little graphic. Maybe it’s best not to let kids hear this.” After a beat, she continued. “Anyway, they would take an ice pick and— oh God— they’d insert it below the upper eyelid, and, Christ, they’d pierce the skull through there by using a hammer. And that was somehow supposed to_ help _people— ah fuck, I think I’m gonna throw up.”_

_She gagged uncontrollably at the mere thought of the barbaric procedure and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. She sucked in a sharp breath and waved a dismissive hand at the camera._

_“Maybe I should try that again. We’ll cut out that last part in post.”_

_“Uh, yeah, sure,” said August, “but do you really wanna repeat all that? That’s horrible, Emma. I had no idea that’s how lobotomies were done.”_

_“Well, some were, but if you ask me, there’s no ‘good’ way to lobotomize somebody,” said Emma, “I mean, haven’t you seen_ One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest?”

_“You mean that old Jack Nicholson movie?”_

_Emma nodded. “Yeah. That was his first film, by the way. Anyway, I can’t help but think Nurse Mills might’ve taken a few pointers from that evil bitch, Nurse Ratched.”_

_“Are you sure it wasn’t the other way around?” asked August._

_Emma shuddered. “I—” she stiffened, looking around in confusion, “Did you hear that?”_

_“Hear what?”_

_Before Emma could respond, she was thrown violently across the room by an unseen force. The camera began to shake as August struggled not to lose his shit._

_“Emma! Emma? W-What the fuck?!”_

_Emma was unconscious, having struck her head against the wall. She was slumped onto the floor and groaning in pain. August started to approach her, albeit reluctantly, but then he saw it. A figure dressed in white, with dark hair and eyes, manifested in the corner next to Emma, and slowly reached down to take the ice pick from Emma’s hand. A demented grin made its way onto the figure’s face, and that was when realization struck._

_“…Nurse Mills?” August whispered._

_Maniacal laughter rang out through the dark corridors and August could only think to run. The camera shook violently as the terrified boy’s arms swung about wildly while he darted down the hallway, his only guiding light coming in through the cracks between the boards that sealed the windows. He was panting heavily and it sounded as if he was in tears._

_“Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck!” he said frantically, “God, please, I know I don’t really believe in you, but please, just help me get out of here!”_

_As he rounded a corner, he froze dead in his tracks, almost stumbling backwards. There, only a few yards ahead, stood Emma. She was standing, but her arms were hanging limply and her shoulders were slumped forward, as was her head. She was staring at him with a blank expression, like she didn’t recognize him._

_Like there was nothing there._

_“Emma?” he asked, “What— how did you—”_

_He gasped when a familiar figure materialized behind Emma, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. The entity shot him that same devious grin and held up the ice pick._

_**“You’re next,”** she hissed._

_August dropped the camera and started running in the opposite direction, still sobbing openly and struggling to breathe. Then, suddenly, he let out a blood-curdling scream, and it was abruptly cut short by a sickening, wet_ crack.

_Then there was silence, and the camera cut to black._

Henry was mortified by what he had just witnessed. He pushed himself up and out of his chair and threw his door open, feeling nauseous and intending to rush to the bathroom. When he opened the door, however, his heart sank and his blood ran cold. There, on the floor at his feet, was an ice pick.


	13. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little longer but I cut out the more graphic descriptions because they were too intense even for me.

Emma awoke to find herself bound to a chair by her wrists and ankles. She was gagged with a red sphere and was trapped in a dark room with a concrete floor. The only light was emanating from the flickering, swaying bulb that hung above her. She couldn’t see a thing beyond the circle of light surrounding her. It only extended about three feet in front of her. Even so, she sensed she was being watched.

She looked around, eyes wide, and saw a blinking red light in the darkness, up towards the ceiling. It must have been a security camera. She shuddered at the thought of who might be watching her from the other end. She began to struggle, but it was no use. The ropes were too tight and she had nothing to cut herself free with. She was panting heavily as her heart raced.

 _“It’s no use,”_ came a woman’s voice, _“You’re not going anywhere, Miss Swan. I’ve got you all to myself, and no one is ever going to find you.”_

Out of the darkness stepped a mousy-looking woman in a white blouse and dark skirt. In her hand was a sharp kitchen knife. She was grinning wickedly as she sauntered towards the blonde. She laughed and lifted Emma’s chin, forcing the young woman to meet her gaze.

“Such a pretty face,” she taunted, “That’s about to change.”

She pressed the blade of her knife to Emma’s cheek and sliced through the woman’s pale skin. She reveled in the agonized scream that escaped her victim.

“Oh, so you _do_ bleed? Interesting,” she mused, “I wonder, then, why your kind feels the need to steal blood from others.” She carved a large _V_ into Emma’s forehead and laughed maniacally while the young woman suffered. “Scream all you want, _monster._ I’m going to keep this up for as long as I live. If I was undead like you, I’d spend an eternity carving you up, but I thank God I’m not. I could never live with myself, knowing I was an _abomination.”_

She grabbed Emma’s hair and jerked the blonde’s head back, glaring hateful daggers at the bound woman.

“You murdered my husband,” she hissed, “His name was David. He was a good person— a _wonderful_ person who never had a bad thing to say about anybody— and _you killed him!_ Drained him dry! You animal! I would slay every last one of you monsters if I only could! But I’m just one woman. I can’t do it all on my own. That’s why I created the Huntsmen. We will stop at nothing until every last one of you _fiends_ are destroyed.”

In the midst of torturing the creature she deemed less than human, the brunette made a grave error. She hadn’t done enough research, it seemed. If she had, she would have known that vampires always traveled in groups of two or more.

A pair of red eyes glowed in the darkness, glaring at the brunette with murderous intent. The woman was dead before she knew what hit her. Her throat was slashed by three razor-sharp claws, which then tore away the ropes binding Emma’s wrists.

Emma discarded the gag and pulled the ropes from her ankles. She tried to stand, but was too weak. She panted heavily as tears slipped down her bloody cheeks. She looked up with a mix of pain and relief and smiled faintly despite the agony she felt.

 _“Regina,”_ she murmured.

A familiar face smiled back at her. “Don’t speak,” rasped her mate, “Your body needs time to rejuvenate.”

Emma just nodded and took a slow, deep breath. She closed her eyes as she leaned into the comforting embrace of her mate.

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” Regina whispered, “I got here as quickly as I could. I had to crack a few skulls outside.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Emma told her, “It’s my fault for letting myself be captured, but that’s all over now. So thank you.”

Regina nodded slowly and kissed the blonde’s temple. “I told you I would always find you, my darling.”

She brought a claw to her wrist and left a small cut, holding it up to Emma’s lips. As Emma fed on her sweet blood, the blonde’s wounds began to close up at a semi-rapid pace. Once Emma’s wounds were mostly healed, Regina lifted her up bridal style and headed up the stairs out of the dark basement. Regina had been a vampire far longer than her young mate, giving her the advantage of night-vision.

“Let’s go home,” murmured Regina.


	14. The Philosopher's Stone

Emma was chiseling away at the precious gems that lined the walls of the dark cavern when something truly wondrous caught her eye. A perfectly-cut ruby, gleaming in the dim flicker of her lantern. No imperfections. No scratches, cracks or blemishes of any sort. She knew just by looking at it that it was priceless. She would never have to work again, though she did enjoy her job as an archaeologist. She had come to this area to look for any signs of an ancient civilization. Instead she found this marvelous cave full of gemstones, and even still, something far more valuable.

She carefully pried it out of the wall with her fingers, not wishing to damage such beauty with her crude chisel. It wiggled just enough for her to pull it loose and her eyes grew wide as she studied it closely, holding up her lantern to get a better look at it.

“Remarkable,” she whispered.

Just then, a cold, bitter wind blew through the cavern and extinguished the flame in her lantern. She shivered involuntarily and set the lantern aside, but did not stop to think that perhaps the jewel was not to be disturbed, or that she may have awoken something that should have remained dormant.

She tucked the jewel safely into one of her vest’s many pockets and reignited the lantern without further issue. She resumed her work, smiling widely, for she knew she would soon be famous for such a discovery, and very, _very_ rich. What she failed to realize was that the cave had grown even darker around her, despite it being high noon.

Seven hours later, the full moon was out and the sky was full of stars. Emma packed up her things and went to her trailer for the night, boiling herself some macaroni and plopping down in her favorite chair to relax while she ate her dinner straight out of the pot once it had cooled down a bit. She took the precious ruby from her pocket and held it up to the light with an ecstatic grin.

“Emma Swan, you’re gonna be filthy, _stinkin’_ rich!” she declared.

Not long after, she fell asleep with the ruby on the table next to her and the empty pot resting in her lap. She snored loudly, dreaming of her wondrous new possession, but her visions quickly became disturbing.

_Emma found herself standing in a cave before an ancient-looking statue, carved from stone. The statue depicted a winged woman with curved horns, and at the center of the woman’s chest was the scarlet jewel. Before Emma could even think to react, the jewel began to glow bright red, as did the statue’s eyes, and a haunting voice rang out through the dark cave so loudly that she was forced to cover her ears, even in her dream._

**_“You have unearthed the Philosopher’s Stone of legend. With it, you have earned yourself an eternal life. You will never die. You will never grow old. All those you love and cherish will die, again and again, and you will be forever alone. This is not a blessing, Emma Swan. This is your curse. This jewel was not meant to be seen by mankind, much less possessed. It will drive you mad, and you will regret your ignorance. May these words haunt you until the end of time. So say I, the Queen of Darkness.”_ **

Emma awoke with a gasp and looked around with a frown. The jewel was still there, completely intact, but there was something different about it this time. It no longer gleamed as it once had.

“Philosopher’s Stone, my ass,” she muttered.

She got ready, cleaned the place up a little, and put the ruby back in her pocket. After that, she left her trailer and headed out to work for the day. This time she was accompanied by her friend Ruby Lucas.

“Hey, Ruby, you’ll never guess what I found.”

“Well, let me try anyway. Is it a ruby?”

Emma laughed. “That easy, huh?”

Ruby grinned. “Can I see it?”

“Yeah, but you’ve gotta swear to me that you won’t tell anyone about this. I found it, so it’s mine, fair and square. I can’t let the boss see it or he’ll keep it for himself.”

Ruby nodded. “Snitches get stitches. My lips are sealed.”

Emma looked around for a moment before pulling the jewel from her pocket. Ruby’s eyes lit up in sheer wonder.

“Holy shit, Emma. That’s _beautiful.”_

“Right? But get this, I had a dream that it was the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“What’s that?”

“A legendary jewel that supposedly grants immortality. I know it’s just a story, but wouldn’t it be cool if this thing really _did_ have that kind of power?”

“I don’t know, Emma,” said Ruby, “Forever _is_ a long time.”

* * *

That same afternoon, Emma was down in the pit with a handful of her peers, digging through the earthen walls for any signs of fossils. So far she was unsuccessful, though she did find a few beautiful rocks for her collection. Of course, none of them could ever be as perfect as the red rock she’d found in the cave. Before she had time to react, one of the other scientists unearthed a landmine. It detonated right then and there, blowing everyone to smithereens. Everyone except her.

She climbed out of the smoking, burning pit, covered in blood, ash and shrapnel, but inexplicably, she felt no pain whatsoever. She would soon come to learn that none of the blood was her own, and that horrified her. That night, after the medics had reluctantly released her, she shut herself inside her trailer and sat there, silent, as she stared at the red gem with shock and unease.

“Holy shit,” she whispered at long last, “It’s _real.”_

Her head shot up when she heard a loud knock at the door. _“Emma? It’s Ruby. Can I come in? We need to talk.”_

“Uh, yeah— sure, come in.”

Ruby entered the trailer and slowly closed the door behind her, gaping at Emma and shaking her head in disbelief.

“You should be dead, Emma. You should have _fucking died_ today! How the fuck are you still alive?! Hell, you don’t even have a _scratch_ on you!”

“I know, Ruby,” Emma said quietly, processing the situation. She held up the scarlet gem. “I’m beginning to believe,” she paused a moment, “that this might _actually_ be the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“Well it sure as hell seems that way to me! How else could you have come out of there unscathed? But do you know what this means, Emma? You can _never_ die. That may have its perks, but I feel like the cons will vastly outweigh the pros. I’m going to die one day. Your parents will die. Your friends, family, lovers— they’ll all grow old and die, and you’ll still be here. Is that _really_ what you want?”

Emma was overcome with fury, standing up with tight fists. “How the fuck am I supposed to know?!” she snapped, “It’s not like I knew it was the damn Philosopher’s Stone when I pulled it out of that cave!”

“Well, can’t you just, I don’t know, put it back?”

“I doubt that would change things! Besides, I’m not just leaving it behind! They’re sending me back home in the morning, and I’m selling this son-of-a-bitch the second I get there!”

That was a lie.

After being sent back to America, Emma headed straight to Maine to visit her parents. They were mortified to learn of the explosion, but forever grateful that she was alive and unharmed, despite not understanding how that was even possible. The moment she stepped through the door, her parents’ dog began to snarl and bare his fangs at her, something he had never done with her— or anyone, really— before.

“Henry!” her father said sternly, “Heel!”

The Doberman sat back and closed his mouth, but continued to growl lowly in the corner. Emma’s parents embraced her and helped her put her things away in the guest room, once her childhood bedroom.

“We’re so glad you’re okay,” said her mother, “When we heard about the mine, we feared the worst. How is it even possible that you got out of there without a scratch? It’s as if it never even happened!”

Emma reached into her pocket and pulled out the red gemstone. “This is gonna sound crazy— I know I wouldn’t believe it either, but just hear me out.”

She explained everything, and as she expected, her parents didn’t believe her.

“Emma, I’m sure there must be _some_ other explanation,” her father started to say.

Emma shook her head. “Like _what,_ Dad? What other logical explanation is there? I’m a scientist! This sort of thing shouldn’t be possible! It defies all logic and reason! I’m just saying, the dream I had, followed by that explosion, and me coming out unscathed? That _can’t_ be a coincidence! I’m sure Henry can sense it, too. Why else would he have reacted to me the way he did?”

Her parents exchanged a concerned glance.

“I don’t know, Emma,” said her mother, “but how can you be sure you’re really ‘immortal’ as you say? Surely you’re not about to put yourself in harm’s way just to prove some ridiculous legend.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe I will,” she said defiantly.

 _“Emma, no!”_ her parents cried in unison, but she had already run out the front door.

“David, do something!”

David gave chase, despite his bad leg, but he could not keep up with her as he once used to. He grabbed his keys from in the house and climbed into his truck, speeding off in Emma’s direction. He eventually caught up with her and found her high up in an old oak tree. His eyes widened in panic.

“Emma!” he shouted, “Emma, get down! You’ll fall and hurt yourself!”

“You’re only half-right, Dad. Let me prove it to you!”

“Emma, no! This is insane! Come back down here, right now!”

Emma laughed. “You got it!”

She let go, and her father’s jaw hit the ground.

“Emma, no, that isn’t what I—”

He cried out in horror when his daughter’s body struck the ground, having fallen almost fifty feet. The sound would forever haunt him. The crunching of bones and the wild grin on Emma’s face. She almost looked like a deranged monster.

“EMMA!”

David rushed to her aid, but before he could reach her, she began pushing herself up.

“No, Emma, don’t move!”

Emma held out a hand to stop him. “Dad, it’s fine! Just trust me!” She stood up and brushed herself off a little, but appeared completely unharmed.

“But— But, your bones, they— I heard your bones break!”

“I’m pretty sure that was just the branch I fell on,” Emma said nonchalantly, “I told you, Dad, I can’t be hurt.” She opened her hand to reveal the red stone and smiled, kissing it in gratitude. “And it’s all thanks to this beauty right here.”

David stared at her in horror. “I don’t like this, Emma. I don’t like this one bit.”

“I bet you wish you could have this kind of power.”

The man shook his head. “No,” he said firmly, “We’re supposed to grow old and die, as nature intended. You’re playing God, Emma.”

“Oh, so you’re suddenly a believer?”

“Whatever forces control the universe, you shouldn’t be messing with them. That thing is dangerous. It’s changed you, I can tell. This doesn’t sit well with me at all. I think it’s best that you destroy it.”

 **“NO!”** Emma hissed— yes, _hissed._

It was brief, just a fraction of a second, but her father swore he saw her eyes flash from green to red and then back again. He blinked quickly and shook his head, walking briskly back towards his truck and locking the doors.

“Why don’t you walk home?” he asked her, “It’ll be good for you.”

He sped back towards the house without waiting for Emma’s response, not noticing the winged figure that lurked behind her.

* * *

David was wide-awake, unable to find even a moment’s rest as his wife lay snoring softly beside him. He climbed slowly out of bed, not wishing to wake her, and yet she awoke.

“David?” she murmured, “What is it? Still thinking about Emma?”

“Yeah,” he said, “Yeah, I am. I don’t like what that damn rock is doing to her. I didn’t mention this before, but her eyes were different. It was only for a split second, but they were red, Mary-Margaret. They were as red as that godforsaken rock. I swear I heard her bones break, but she just stood up like it was nothing!”

 _“Shhh!_ She’ll hear you,” his wife whispered.

“Sorry.” David ran a hand through his thinning hair. “I say we get rid of that thing.”

“But how? She’s always got it in her pocket.”

“Surely not when she’s asleep.”

“At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. God only knows what sort of stunt she’ll pull next. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t see that. I couldn’t live with myself if I’d allowed you to witness her fall like that. It was _awful,_ Mary-Margaret. I’d even go so far as to say it’s as traumatic as war. Maybe more.”

Mary-Margaret placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “That bad?” she asked softly.

David just nodded. “Yeah. It hits different when it’s your kid,” he said, staring out the window at the pale moon, “but I’m beginning to wonder if that thing in the other room is really our daughter.”

“What are you saying? That she’s a demon?”

“Considering what I saw in her eyes today, I wouldn’t rule it out just yet.”

What they didn’t know was that Emma was standing right on the other side of their door, her eyes glowing red with fury and hatred. In one hand she held the Philosopher’s Stone. In the other, she held her father’s pistol. A wicked grin crept onto her face as she slowly turned the knob.

* * *

Three days later, a neighbor from up the road stopped by the Swan residence with the Sheriff to perform a welfare check.

“I’m pretty good friends with David, see, and he always comes into town each morning to have coffee at Granny’s with me and the boys. He hasn’t shown up for the last few days but he didn’t tell anyone he was skipping out on us. That just ain’t like him, and we’ve all been calling him, but he hasn’t picked up. He’d have said _something_ by now.”

“His truck is gone,” the Sheriff noted.

“Hm. Weird.” The neighbor knocked loudly, as the Swans had no doorbell. “David? Mary-Margaret? You home?” he called, “It’s Leroy! I’m here with Sheriff Humbert!”

There was no answer. He exchanged a concerned glance with the policeman.

“This ain’t like them at all,” he said, “Mary-Margaret’s always at home, and David hurt his leg a month or so ago so he’s been around more.”

The Sheriff nodded and tried to open the door. It was locked. “Is there another way inside?” he asked.

“Yeah, around back I think.”

Leroy walked with the Sheriff towards the back of the little farmhouse and up to the screen door. It was unlatched. Leroy stepped inside and called out once more.

“David? You in here?”

Again, there was no response. Not even a peep from the family dog, either.

The Sheriff made his way through the home, his gun drawn with the safety off, and gestured for Leroy to stay put. He slowly pushed open every door, ready to fire if necessary, but found nothing. That is, until he reached the bedroom at the very end of the hall. The door was ajar, so he used his foot to push it open. The hinges creaked, and what he saw beyond that door would scar him for life. He reached for his radio with a trembling hand.

“C-Come in, Deputy Booth. This is Sheriff Humbert.”

_“Yes, Sheriff?”_

“I need an ambulance, ASAP, at 815 Misthaven Drive,” said the Sheriff, “and I’m going to need backup.”

_“Yes, sir, right away.”_

Emma watched from the trees in the distance while the police sirens blared and the ambulance screeched as they pulled up to the old farmhouse. She was covered in blood, still holding onto the pistol, and of course, the Philosopher’s Stone. The winged figure loomed behind her.

**_“Must you have acted with such barbarism?”_ **

Emma’s eye twitched. “They were gonna die anyway,” she said coldly, “Might as well go out with a _bang.”_

She climbed into her father’s truck, set the gun in the seat beside her, and drove off into the distance. She didn’t know where exactly she was going, but it would be _far away_ from here. She would spend the rest of her life traveling the world again and again. The planet would change, for better or for worse, but not her. No, not her. A smirk graced her lips as she rode through the trees.

_“It’s a good day to be alive.”_


	15. The Farmer's Daughter

Emma slammed a fist on the steering wheel in anger as she pulled along the side of the gravel road.

_“Damn it!”_

Her back tire had gone flat and she didn’t have a spare to replace it. To make matters even worse, it was pouring down rain and she was stuck in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. She pulled out her phone to contact her father, but there was no signal.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

She reluctantly shut off the engine and stepped out of the yellow bug, pulling up her hood and racing through the freezing rain in the dead of night until she saw lights up ahead. There was an old farmhouse up the road. When she reached it, she knocked on the door and hugged herself tightly.

After a minute or two, an old man answered the door with a look of sympathy. “Oh my,” he said, “Come in, little lady. What’re you doing out here in the rain?”

“I got a flat tire,” Emma told him as she stepped inside, “and there’s no cell signal out here. Is it alright if I use your phone?”

“Of course. It’s in the kitchen.”

Emma pulled back her hood and made her way into the kitchen, where she found an old rotary phone resting on the counter. Suddenly grateful to have old-fashioned parents, she dialed her folks’ number and waited for one of them to pick up. A few moments passed before someone did.

 _“Swan residence,”_ said her mother.

“Hey, Mom. It’s Emma. I’ve got a flat tire and I’m stranded out in the woods near the county line. Do you think you could get Dad to come pick me up?”

_“All the way out there? Whose phone are you using?”_

“Um, hang on a second.” Emma turned to the old man who was reading the paper at the table. “Sir? I never got your name.”

The man smiled softly. “Henry Mills,” he said, “and you?”

“Emma Swan.” The blonde brought the phone back to her ear. “He says his name is—”

Just then, lightning struck outside, and the line went dead. Emma’s eyes widened.

“Damn it,” she muttered, putting the phone back on the receiver. She went to the window and peered out from behind the curtain. “Looks like the lightning hit the power lines,” she said.

“You can stay here for the night,” Henry offered.

Emma shook her head. “I couldn’t ask you to do that for me, but thank you.”

Henry’s smile widened a bit. “Oh, come now. There’s a perfectly good couch and more than enough blankets. I’m sure everything will be better in the morning, and I’ll gladly get you a tow-truck.”

“That’s very kind of you,” said Emma.

Before the old man could respond, there was a loud crash from below. Emma looked at him in utter confusion.

“What was that?”

The man’s smile faltered, no longer reaching his eyes. He almost seemed fearful. “I’m sure it’s the rats again. This wouldn’t be the first time they infiltrated the cellar.”

Emma had what she liked to call a ‘superpower.’ She always knew when someone wasn’t being entirely honest with her, and this man had just blatantly lied to her face. She brushed it off as Henry announced he was heading to bed for the night, but not before showing her the old wooden chest where the quilts and blankets were kept. The old man went to bed and Emma found herself alone in the dark farmhouse, with only the full moon to give her light. She didn’t want to turn any of the lights back on for fear of waking the old farmer.

She tried to get some sleep, but was unable to for a number of reasons. One, she was stranded in an unfamiliar place. Two, she was staying in a total stranger’s house. And three, there was something down in that cellar Henry clearly didn’t want her to know about. Whatever it was, it continued to cause a ruckus well into the night, slowly driving Emma up the wall. After what felt like an eternity of this, she couldn’t take it any longer and crept towards what she presumed was the door to the cellar and found it sealed with a padlock.

She pulled a pin out of her hair and picked the lock. She couldn’t believe she was doing this again. Sneaking into places she didn’t belong. Even so, the thrill of her delinquent teenage years had come creeping back into her curious mind. She slowly opened the door and shone the light from her phone down into the dark staircase.

“Hello?” she called softly.

There was no answer, but she could hear something shuffling faintly in the darkness below. She swallowed nervously and hesitated a moment, looking back to see if Henry was there. He wasn’t, so she carefully crept down into the cellar with only the light of her phone to guide her.

“Hello?” she asked again.

This time, she received a response, and it nearly made her jump out of her skin. _“Hello,”_ came a sultry voice in the shadows.

Emma gasped and held up her phone to shed light on whoever was there. Just a few feet away was a young brunette with olive skin and dark eyes, wearing a simple white dress that was frayed at the hem. The woman was crouched down, but slowly stood up as she stared into the white light.

“Who are you?” the brunette queried, “And why are you in my house?”

Emma swallowed. “U-Um, Henry told me I could stay here for the night. It’s pouring out there, and I’ve got a flat tire and no cell service,” she said quickly, “Are you his daughter?”

The brunette smiled faintly and nodded. “Yes,” she rasped, “My name is Regina.”

“That’s a nice name. Mine’s Emma. Emma Swan.”

“Emma Swan,” Regina husked, moving closer to the unnerved blonde, “How fitting. You have such grace and beauty, yet also strength, I can tell.”

“You’re, uh, quite the judge of character.”

“Daddy always _did_ say I was the best,” said Regina. She toyed with a strand of Emma’s hair before tucking it back behind the blonde’s ear. Emma blinked at her in stunned silence, which caused a soft chuckle to escape her. “Forgive me,” she said, “It’s just been so long since I saw another person.”

Emma’s discomfort turned to outrage. “Is he keeping you _prisoner_ down here? Is— Is that why there was a lock on the door?”

“Afraid so,” Regina said somberly, “Will you take me with you, Emma Swan? Will you help me escape this horrible place?”

Emma could only nod. “Yes,” she said, “Yes, I promise I will.”

Regina placed her hands on either side of Emma’s face. “It’s been so long since I’ve had anything to drink,” she whispered.

“We can get some water from the tap,” said Emma, “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.”

“No, not water,” said Regina.

Her eyes turned from a deep brown to a golden shimmer. Emma saw this and started to back away in fear, but Regina was quick to stop this. She tightened her grip on Emma’s head and ushered the blonde back, pinning her against the wall. The phone landed in the dirt with a dull _thud,_ blocking out what little light it offered.

_“Blood.”_

* * *

The next morning, Henry found the cellar door wide open and shook his head in mild disappointment.

“That poor girl,” he said softly.

He picked up a flashlight and made his way down the creaky steps. Once he reached the bottom, he looked around and shone the light into the corner, where his daughter was feeding on the blood leaking out of Emma’s neck.

“Is she still alive, darling?” he asked.

Regina looked up at him with her piercing golden eyes. Her lips and chin were covered in blood, as were her fingers, which she proceeded to lick clean.

“She was until an hour ago,” she said with a wicked grin, exposing her sharp canines.

Henry sighed. “Oh, Regina,” he said, “You mean you drained her _already?_ She was supposed to last you until the next full moon.”

“Yes, well, it’s been so long since my last meal,” Regina countered, “You would understand if you were in my position.”

Henry just nodded. “I’ll prepare a spot for her in the cornfield with the others,” he said, “but first I need to dispose of her car.”

“Of course,” said Regina. She cupped Emma’s deathly pale face and smiled almost fondly at the woman. “She truly was a beauty.” She kissed Emma’s cold lips and hummed in satisfaction. “Shame I had to take her life so soon.”


	16. The Carriage

Emma had been utterly distraught when the doctor first told her she only had six months to live, but now she had less than a month, and she was more or less content with her situation. She’d done everything she needed to do, visited with friends and family, and whenever the end came, she knew she would be ready for it. Climbing slowly into bed, she closed her eyes and soon began to drift into a deep sleep.

She soon found herself in a haze, walking out of her front door. The sun was out, the air was warm, and she had a head full of hair again. She felt completely rejuvenated. She made her way to the curb, drawn by something she could neither see nor comprehend. Moments later, she heard the hooves of a horse clacking against the asphalt and looked to see a dark carriage approaching, drawn by a black horse.

“That’s weird,” she said under her breath.

The horse slowed to a halt, and the carriage stopped directly in front of her. She blinked in confusion when the carriage door opened. Out from the darkness within came a hand, bound in a black leather glove, and it beckoned her to come closer.

“Come along, darling,” came the soft voice of a woman.

Emma frowned, slightly taken aback. “Wh-Who _are_ you?” she asked.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the hauntingly-beautiful face of the woman in the carriage. The woman was dressed all in black, with olive skin and dark hair and eyes. The brunette’s painted lips curled into an almost fond smile.

“I believe you already know the answer, my dear,” said the brunette. She extended her gloved hand further. “I’ve come to take you home.”

“But, I _am_ home.”

The brunette shook her head. “Not anymore, Emma Swan. Climb aboard.”

Emma reluctantly took the woman’s hand, and the moment she did, her eyes grew wide in realization. Instead of feeling alarmed, or even frightened, she was overcome with a sense of peace and contentment, and she smiled.

 _“Death,”_ she whispered.

The brunette’s smile widened a bit as she helped Emma into the carriage. Once Emma was inside, the woman closed the door and the carriage began to move once more. She placed her hand onto Emma’s and peered deep into the blonde’s eyes.

“Do you feel any pain, my dear? Any discomfort?”

“No,” Emma said softly, “I feel completely at peace.”

“It pleases me to hear that.”

“I’m not, uh, going to Hell or anything, am I?”

“What you know as _Hell_ does not exist,” replied the brunette, “There are no demons, nor are there souls of the damned being eternally tormented for arbitrary things.”

“But is there a Heaven?”

“Something like that.”

They didn’t speak after that. There was nothing more to say. Emma’s eyes slipped shut when the brunette’s lips met hers in a feather-light kiss, and the world around her transformed into a void of pure white light. She knew then that she hadn’t been dreaming.


	17. The Closet

Emma let out a sigh of relief as she stepped into her new home. The place was beautiful, and from what she had seen, it was in perfect condition. It was less than ten years old. She couldn’t understand why the last owners had moved out so quickly, or why they’d sold it for such a cheap price, but she would be forever grateful. She’d already brought all of her things over, which admittedly wasn’t much, but that meant she didn’t have to spend more than a day or two hauling it all inside.

She headed upstairs to her room to finish putting away the last of her belongings and opened up the closet to hang up her clothes. The moment she opened the folding panel doors, she felt a sudden rush of frigid air that caused her to shiver. She rubbed her arms a bit, but thought nothing of it and continued putting things away. Twenty minutes passed before she was finally finished and she stacked the cardboard boxes in the closet, pulling the doors shut once more. She left the room and switched the light off, oblivious to the shimmering amethyst eyes watching her from beyond the closet doors.

She didn’t feel like cooking that night so she just picked up Chinese food and brought it home to eat while she browsed Netflix. Her eyes lit up when she saw a familiar gem from her childhood. _Code Lyoko._

“Oh shit, I remember that!”

She started watching it and was hooked immediately, but became puzzled at the prospect of reversing time.

“I don’t remember this show having time travel,” she muttered, “but whatever.”

Four long hours passed, and she’d long-since finished her meal. She was starting to feel exhausted, but couldn’t stop watching the bizarre mashup of two-and-three-dimensional animation. It was very jarring, more so than she remembered. She let out a sad sigh as realization hit her straight in the heart. The Lyoko kids were such good friends who often bickered, but in the end, they always stuck together.

Emma wished she had a close-knit group of friends like that to spend her days with, but she’d always had a difficult time making any, and even now, at twenty-two years-old, she was incredibly lonely. This godforsaken pandemic certainly wasn’t helping. She had no one. Just this empty house. It may have been beautiful, but she had no one to share it with, and that broke her.

She shut off the TV and went upstairs. Crawling into bed, she wiped away the tears forming in her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep. She froze when she thought she heard something and listened closely. It soon happened a second time. It was the quiet but distinct creak of the closet doors. She sucked in a breath and tried to pretend like she was sleeping, but then, she sensed a dip at the edge of her bed and she did everything she could not to scream. Even so, an involuntary whimper escaped her when she felt a hand tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

With extreme reluctance, Emma opened her eyes and looked up to see the faint outline of a woman in the darkness. A woman with dark hair and what she swore looked like purple eyes.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered.

The woman was silent for a moment. “I’m not here to hurt you,” she said softly, “On the contrary, I’m here to _help_ you.”

“H-Help me? How did you— How did you get in here?”

“I’ve been here for some time,” said the mysterious brunette. Her amethyst eyes glimmered in the moonlight as it flooded the room. “I sense you are in a great deal of turmoil. What can I do to help, my dear?”

“Who are you?” rasped Emma.

“You may call me Regina. And you are?”

“Emma Swan.”

Regina placed a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “What’s troubling you, Emma?” she murmured, “I could sense your anguish even when you were downstairs.”

Emma bit her lip, feeling an inexplicable sense of comfort in this stranger’s presence. “I— I’m just depressed. I have been for a long time, but it’s gotten so much worse this year. Just now, though, it occurred to me that I have no friends and that I might be a—”

She paused, biting her lip as she couldn’t quite bring herself to say it.

“A what?” Regina asked gently.

A quiet sob escaped Emma. “A loser,” she said, and again, more firmly, “I’m a _fucking loser._ All I do is sit at home, write countless stories I struggle to finish and make all sorts of shit for my online store that hardly makes any money. I have no friends, no real job, barely a cent to my name, my parents are disappointed in me even though they won’t say it, and the only person I open up to anymore is my therapist. The only reason I bought this damn house was so that I didn’t have to keep living with my mom. I’m twenty-two, goddamn it! I’m twenty-two and I’m a complete failure of a person! I barely know how to hold a conversation!”

“You’re not a loser, Emma,” Regina told her, “You’re still young. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. There is more than enough time for you to make friends, and to get yourself out there.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Emma countered, “I don’t even know where to begin! I’ve only spoken to a handful of the people I went to high school with since we graduated, and that was four years ago! I mean, I don’t even talk to the guy I was best friends with since kindergarten! I was a real cunt in high school, you know. I wanted to be different. I wanted to stand out. I guess I did, but not in a good way. I’m sure just about everyone there has forgotten me, and the ones who haven’t probably hate my fucking guts! If only I had a fucking time machine like those kids on Lyoko. I’d go back and change it all, if I could.”

 _“Lyoko?”_ Regina quizzed.

Emma shook her head. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.” She wiped her eyes and sat up. “Where’d you come from, anyway? The closet?”

Regina nodded. “I did.”

“Why didn’t I notice you before?”

“I believe you did. You felt a breeze, did you not?”

“Um, yeah, actually.”

“That was my presence. I was manifesting myself in a physical form and using kinetic energy to do so. This form draws in the heat from the air around me,” Regina explained.

“What are you, a ghost?”

“I’m not entirely certain. I have no memory of existing prior to awakening in this house. It’s been many years since I manifested here. The last couple who lived here were frightened by me, but I am pleased to see that my presence brings you _some_ degree of comfort, Emma Swan.”

Emma couldn’t help but smile faintly. “You came out of the closet,” she noted, “You think maybe that’s some kind of sign?”

“Are you implying that I fancy women?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Emma, “but I was actually wondering if that was a sign that _I_ should be more open about who I am.”

Regina smiled back at her. “You should never hide your true feelings, no matter what, whether you believe they’re good or bad. Bottling up your emotions will only make you feel worse. Let them out, Emma, and they won’t eat away at you from the inside.”

“You sound just like my therapist.”

“Well, it looks like you could use one,” said Regina, “Do you love yourself, Emma?”

“I don’t know that I hate myself, per se. I mean, I definitely used to, and I’m angry with who I’ve become, but I don’t think I can still claim to _hate_ myself.”

“But do you _love_ yourself?”

Emma hesitated. “I— I don’t think I do,” she confessed quietly, “but I once made a promise to my high school counselor that I wouldn’t kill myself, and as you can see, I’ve made good on that promise.”

Regina took hold of Emma’s hand tenderly. “Would you make me that promise as well?”

Emma stared deep into those amethyst eyes and felt a sense of peace. “Yes,” she rasped, “I promise.”

“Emma?”

“Hm?”

“I think I’ve finally figured out my purpose here,” said Regina.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“I’m your spirit guide.”

“You’ve been waiting here for _years_ just to be my spirit guide?”

“Yes. To find your spirit guide, you first needed to put yourself upon the right path, and here you are, Emma Swan. Now that you’ve found me, I will lead you through the rest of the journey that is your life.” Regina kissed Emma’s forehead softly. “No matter where you go, or how far you travel, I will always be with you, even if you cannot see me.” She cupped the blonde’s face. “As your spirit guide, I feel it is of utmost importance that I aid you in reconnecting with your self-love and finding true happiness.”

Tears continued to roll down Emma’s cheeks, but now they were joyful. “Thank you, Regina,” she whispered, _“Thank you.”_


	18. Home

Henry was led up to the front door by the social worker. The house was incredible. A suburban paradise with a pool out back. He’d never been one to obsess over material objects, but this house was far nicer than any he had lived in before, _especially_ the last one. He just hoped his new foster parents were just as nice.

“Ready?” asked the social worker.

Henry gave a small nod. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

The social worker rang the doorbell and two women came to the door, one blonde and one brunette.

“Hello,” the pair said in unison, smiling brightly.

“Afternoon, ladies,” said the social worker, “I’m Mr. Booth, and this is Henry.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Henry,” said the brunette, “I’m Regina, and this is my wife, Emma.”

Emma offered a friendly wave. “Hey, kid. How’s it going?”

Henry smiled halfheartedly. “Fine,” he said, but it was clear to everyone that he didn’t mean it.

He gathered his things from Mr. Booth’s car and brought it all into the house. He didn’t have much but he treasured them dearly. Just come clothes, a toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant, and a small journal with a _Star Wars_ pencil. That night, he found himself at the dinner table with his new foster parents and a hot cheese pizza on the table. They were smiling at him and trying to make conversation, but he wasn’t quite comfortable enough with them to share small-talk.

“So, Henry, do you like school?”

“Um, not really.”

“Do you have any hobbies?”

“I, uh, like writing stories and listening to music.”

“What sort of stories?”

“Just, um, science fiction mostly,” said Henry, “Sometimes fantasy.”

Emma and Regina exchanged a wide grin, which Henry found a bit strange.

 _“Do you like aliens?”_ they asked in unison.

“Yeah, I guess so, but I’ve never actually seen one.” Henry bit into a slice of pizza and chewed slowly, averting his gaze as the two women continued to grin at him. “So, uh, do you like sci-fi, too?”

“Certainly!” said Regina, “Are you enjoying your pizza, dear?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.”

“That’s good, because Emma and I don’t eat meat— aside from seafood, of course. All other types of meat don’t sit well with our stomachs. We are what you call pescatarians.”

Henry glanced between the two women. There was something strange about the way they were looking at him.

“So, uh, have you lived here long?”

“No, not long,” said Regina, “Just a year.”

* * *

Henry tossed and turn in his new bed, troubled by the painful memories of his last foster home. That trauma, however, was soon overshadowed by bizarre visions of blinding lights and inexplicable images of beings he didn’t recognize. Beings with silver skin that shimmered in the moonlight and piercing red eyes that seemed to stare into his very soul. Lights of every color flickered behind them. The last thing he saw was a clawed hand with one too many fingers reaching towards him.

He awoke with a gasp and found that it was now morning. He walked downstairs and found Emma and Regina sitting at the kitchen table with breakfast already prepared.

 _“Good morning, Henry,”_ the pair said in unison.

“Uh, hey,” Henry said a bit uncomfortably.

“I’ve prepared pancakes,” said Regina, “Would you like some?”

“Sure.”

Henry stacked two pancakes on his plate and sat at the table with his new foster parents. They were smiling widely as they had been last night, but their smiles faltered when they saw the unease etched into his face.

“Are you feeling alright?” Regina asked him, “You seem a bit pale.”

“I, uh, just had a bad dream,” said Henry, “but it’s not a big deal.”

Emma and Regina exchanged a look of concern before turning back to him. _“Are you sure?”_ they asked simultaneously.

“Yup,” Henry said firmly, cutting into his pancakes as he covered them in syrup.

Not another word was spoken amid the three of them until they’d all finished their breakfast. Henry trudged back upstairs but when he reached the top, he paused to listen as he heard his name.

 _“Do you think he remembers?”_ Emma asked softly.

 _“Impossible. We wiped his mind,”_ replied Regina.

Henry’s eyes widened in a panic as he locked himself in his new room and barricaded the door with a chair. He locked the windows, pulled the curtains shut and prepared himself mentally and physically for what was to come. He downloaded a sleep-recording app so that he would have it ready to go once night fell.

He didn’t come down for the rest of the day, not even for lunch or dinner. When asked from the other side of the door, he claimed he wasn’t feeling well after all and just needed to rest. It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the _whole_ truth.

* * *

What he heard on the app the next morning made his blood run cold.

_The door creaked open, and shuffling could be heard. It was faint, but became more noticeable as whatever was causing it got closer to the bed. The sound stopped, and only moments later, a low groan escaped Henry as he tossed and turned. That was when a familiar voice began to sing. It was Regina, no doubt, but she was singing in a language Henry didn’t recognize. When she stopped, she said something in English._

_“That should help with his bad dreams. The poor thing. He’s been through so much.”_

_“When are we going to tell him?” came Emma’s concerned voice._

_“When the time is right. If we say anything now, we’ll lose him forever.”_

_The pair shuffled back out of his room and quietly closed the door. After that, there was only the sound of his steady breathing._

Henry shut off the recording. He needed to confront them about this, but how? If he angered them, they might take his phone away, or worse, send him back. He wasn’t so much fearful as he was determined to get to the bottom of all this, whatever it was.

That day, while the couple were away at work, Henry did some snooping through the house. He searched the attic but found nothing but dust and cobwebs. He looked into all the closets and even the little shed outback. Nothing. Finally, he made his way into the master bedroom. He searched through all the drawers, under the bed, beneath the mattress, behind the dresser, and finally, in the closet. That was where he finally hit the jackpot.

Hidden away behind a stack of old cardboard boxes was a small metal door. A safe, built into the wall. There was a strange symbol etched into it that Henry didn’t recognize. He reached out and touched the symbol, and the second he did, flashes of otherworldly visions flooded into his mind. He saw those same faces from before. Silver skin, red irises and a much darker red where the whites in their eyes should have been.

He felt overwhelmed and stumbled back, only to bump into something solid. Ever so slowly, he raised his head and found himself staring at the upside-down but noticeably annoyed face of Regina. Her arms were folded and she did not seem the least bit pleased.

“What are you doing in here, Henry? Of course this is your home now, too, but you can’t just go snooping around through our things. We value our privacy just as much as you do.”

Henry stood up quickly and took on a defensive posture, tightening his fists. “Yeah, well, why’d you sneak into _my_ room last night, huh?” he countered.

Regina’s left eye twitched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying! And I’ve got proof!” Henry pulled up the app on his phone and pressed the playback button, but when he did, there was only static. His eyes widened in horror and disbelief. “No! No, it was all here! I heard you singing in some weird language, and— and Emma was there! She said something about losing me forever, whatever _that_ means!”

The pained look on Regina’s face told Henry more than he needed to know, but she spoke anyhow. A heavy sigh escaped her painted lips.

“I was hoping we wouldn’t have to have this discussion so soon, but it looks like I don’t have much of a choice.” Regina turned to the door. “Emma, darling, come in here, please.”

Emma walked in with a blank expression masking her face. “Yes?”

“I believe it’s time we told Henry the truth.”

“Are you sure?”

Regina nodded.

Henry frowned in confusion. “What are you guys talking about?! What’s going on?!”

The two women looked at him with what he realized were the same red eyes he’d seen in his dreams. He stepped back with fear on his face and gripped his phone tightly.

“What are you?” he whispered, “Demons or something?”

“No, Henry,” Regina said in a soft voice, “We hail from another planet. The one humans call _Venus.”_

“Well, w-what do _you_ call it?”

The brunette uttered something in that same unfamiliar language, and it was lost on Henry, but he didn’t bother asking her to repeat it.

“Why did you sneak into my room last night? And have you done it before? I dreamed about you, or what I _think_ was you, with silver faces and— and red eyes like you’ve got now!”

The two women exchanged a brief glance. This time, it was Emma who spoke up.

“You see, Henry, all this time we’ve been looking for _you.”_

Henry’s eyes widened. _“M-Me?_ But why?”

“Because,” Emma hesitated, her eyes welling with tears, “Because you are our son.”

“What?! How is that possible? I don’t have red eyes or silver skin! I’m _human!”_

“Not quite,” said Regina, “Our people have evolved to adapt to our surrounding environments. We blend in with the humans well enough. You’ve only ever been around humans, and so you’ve instinctively adapted without even knowing it.”

“Well then why have I been in foster care my whole life?! Why did you abandon me?!”

“We didn’t _abandon_ you, Henry,” Regina said solemnly, “We came to this world many years ago to observe the natural habitat of humans, but not long after our arrival, we had you. It was not safe for us to perform space travel at that time, and before we had the chance to leave, you were stolen from us by vicious government agents. We’ve been moving from city to city, state to state, acquiring new faces and new identities along the way, and now we’ve _finally_ found you.”

She reached out and cupped the boy’s face in her clawed hands as her skin gradually returned to its natural silver. Her hair was now white as snow. Emma underwent a similar transformation as she approached.

“That song you heard,” said Regina, “It was the same one I sang to you when you were a baby, just as my own mother once did for me.”

“If you’re both women, how did you have _me?”_

“Oh, darling, our biology is _vastly_ different from that of humans,” said Regina, “but I promise I will explain it when you are older.” She smiled and stroked his hair affectionately as she felt him tremble. “Don’t be afraid, little one. We would never do anything to hurt you.”

“What about erasing my memory? I heard you talking about that in the kitchen.”

“We won’t do it again, Henry, I promise,” Regina assured him, “but yes, we did do it once. We did it because you were so terrified of us the first time around. When we came into your room that first night, we wanted to take away your pain and grief, but you woke up and we had to improvise. That was why we tried it again last night. One’s memory can only be wiped every seventeen Earth hours. Trying it twice could lead to serious brain damage.” She hugged Henry tightly. “And we wouldn’t want that for our beloved son.”

Emma gasped softly. “Regina,” she said, _“look.”_

Regina stared into Henry’s eyes and smiled despite the tears in her eyes. “It’s begun,” she murmured.

Henry glanced between them in confusion and mild worry. “W-What’s begun?”

Regina turned him so that he was facing the vanity mirror. His eyes grew wide when he realized they were now red, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw that his hands were starting to turn silver.

“W-What?! Why is this happening to me?!”

“Relax, my darling,” rasped Regina, “There’s no need to be alarmed.” She smiled at him in the mirror’s reflection, and Emma walked up behind them. “This is your true face, Henry.”

“And we are your true family,” Emma added.

Henry could only gape at his reflection in shock and disbelief. “How am I supposed to go on like this? I can’t let anyone see me this way!”

“Perhaps not on _this_ planet,” said Regina.

Henry turned to look at her with a slight frown. “I don’t like the way you said that,” he told her, “What are you getting at?”

“Well, now that we are finally together again,” said Regina, “there is simply no reason for us to remain on this world.”

“But this is all I’ve ever known!” Henry argued, “You can’t just take me away like that! And where’s your _spaceship_ anyway, huh? Is it invisible or something?”

“Darling, this _is_ the ship,” Regina told him.

Emma stepped into the closet and pressed the strange symbol on the metal door. It opened, and inside was a blinking panel with numerous buttons and a small black screen. She pressed a few of the buttons and placed her clawed hand on the screen. It took on a faint blue glow, and the entire house began to shake. Henry’s jaw nearly hit the floor when the white-painted walls and picture frames morphed into chrome walls and flickering control panels.

“We are ready for take-off,” said Emma.

Regina nodded. “Let’s go home,” she said fondly.

Henry couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around any of this, but one thing did bring a smile to his face.

 _“Home,”_ he whispered.


	19. A Mother's Love

Malcolm Peterson was his name, but his friends— what few he had— knew him as _Pan._ He’d been married once, but it hadn’t worked out, and he had left his spawn in the care of a distant relative and seemingly dropped off the face of the Earth. He had no time to raise a child. Torturing one, however, well— that excited him.

And so began the kidnappings. One by one. Once, sometimes twice a week, and occasionally three times if he was feeling lucky, he would roam the dark streets in his truck like a vicious predator out on the prowl. The thrill of the hunt was as euphoric to him as a syringe to a junkie. He wasn’t a good-for-nothing nonce. He’d never stoop _that_ low. But the act of tormenting a child and watching them bleed? It was living, breathing— well, not for long— art. A masterpiece of blood and bones, and a crescendo of screams. That was how he justified it in his mind, at least, but deep down, he knew he was a twisted son of a bitch. His life was already hell. Would the Devil really offer anything different?

As he would soon come to learn, there were things far worse in this world than the Devil’s wrath. It was something he would realize after he snatched a young boy of about ten years-old, the same age his own son had been the last time they’d seen each other.

This boy was dressed in a black coat, khaki pants, and a long striped scarf. The child was walking alone down the wet sidewalk, hands buried deep in his coat pockets. He never even saw it coming. One minute he was heading home for dinner, the next he was locked in a strange man’s truck and stricken with a terror unlike any he had ever felt before.

“HELP!” he screamed, banging on the window, “MOM, HELP!” He tried to open the door but of course it had already been locked.

“It’s no use, boy! Your _‘mom’_ isn’t coming to save you!” the old Englishman mocked, _“No one is.”_

The boy turned to him with a look that was equal-parts fear and defiance. “That’s what _you_ think,” he said boldly, “You have _no idea_ what my mom is capable of.”

Pan laughed. “Keep quiet and your death will be quick,” he said as he rounded the corner.

Henry grit his teeth and tried not to let his tears fall, but his efforts were futile. He sobbed quietly, and the old man laughed as if he’d just made some sort of funny quip.

“Crying for your mummy,” Pan taunted, “Typical. It won’t do you any good.”

“Why are you doing this?” Henry whispered.

“Because I like to make people suffer,” said Pan, “as I have all my life. I’m not weak enough to end it all, but believe me, it’s tempting.”

“Maybe you should,” Henry said bitterly, “You’d be doing everyone a favor.”

Pan threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh. “You’ve got guts, boy, talking to me like that.” He grew quiet for a moment and his smile fell completely. “But you’re probably right.”

“You’re going to wish you’d gone out on your own terms once my mom finds you.”

“And what the hell’s so special about her, huh?” Pan snapped, “What is she, a private eye?”

“Even better.”

Pan frowned. “You’ve got a few screws loose in that head of yours, you little shit.”

Henry started to respond, but fell silent when he saw a glimmer of red in the side mirror, coming from behind the truck. A faint smile tugged at his lips, but he remained silent. His mother had found him.

As Pan rode out towards the woods, he started making his way up an old gravel path towards the cabin where he created his depraved art, but suddenly, the engine shut off and the truck sat there, motionless.

“Fucking hell!” he shouted. He got out of the truck and rushed around to drag Henry out. He grabbed the boy’s arm and started leading him up towards the cabin. “I’ll just have to fix it in the morning! You’re coming with me, you little—”

The old man stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a vicious, animalistic hissing from behind him. It sounded unnatural in ways he couldn’t explain. He looked at the boy with fear, but Henry was not the one making the sound. Slowly— ever so slowly— he turned around and nearly pissed himself. There, looming over him, was what he could only think to describe as a demon.

It was tall, almost as tall as a giraffe, and its neck was half as long. It had long hair, stringy and black, and a set of razor-sharp fangs that could easily frighten a shark. Beyond the veil of dark hair were two glowing red orbs, but it had no visible nose or ears. Just two eyes and an impossibly-wide maw. The daggers in its mouth barely passed for teeth, and they weren’t even the worst of it. Its arms and legs were longer than any Pan had seen before. It hoisted itself up on those frighteningly-long, spindly limbs like a venomous spider. The only thing about it that seemed even remotely human was its torso, that of a woman with a tattered white dress.

Pan had long since released the boy and was backing away much more slowly than he wished to, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the demon no matter how hard he tried. It was as if he was being pulled into some sort of trance. He was trembling uncontrollably. His heart was in his mouth.

 _“W-What— What in God’s name is that?!”_ he screamed.

He gasped when he backed into a tree and tried to flee, but before he had the chance, the demon had raced towards him at an unnatural speed and grabbed him tightly in its massive claws, crushing the bones in his arms. He screamed in agony and terror, only to abruptly fall eerily silent as the creature’s jagged mouth enveloped his head and severed it with a sickening _crunch._

His headless corpse collapsed onto the ground beneath the tree as the creature released it. The creature’s bones twisted, cracked and popped as they shifted back into those of a typical human. Within moments, a beautiful woman with dark hair and eyes stood in its place. She licked the blood from her lips with a soft hum of satisfaction and turned to Henry with a look of pure relief.

 _“Henry,”_ she rasped, rushing over to him and pulling him into a tight embrace. She peppered his face with affectionate kisses and laughed when he complained.

 _“Mom!”_ he fussed.

“Forgive me, my angel. I’m just so happy you’re safe. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No,” Henry whispered, “but he was going to.”

After a moment, he broke down into tears and his mother’s soft hands cupped his face ever so gently. Her lips met his forehead in a feather-light kiss.

“It’s alright, Henry,” she murmured, stroking his hair, “No one kidnaps my baby boy and gets away with it.”

Henry couldn’t help but smile a bit. “Thanks, Mom. I knew I could count on you.”

He was once again pulled into a hug, and this time he hugged her back just as tightly. He had never been more certain than in that very moment that there was nothing more powerful than a mother’s love.


	20. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!

Emma was fearful of the storm, though she did her best not to show it. She’d had a terrible vision the previous night of the ship sinking and the crew drowning along with it. Now the sky was growing dark as gray clouds rolled in. The rain was pelting her skin and hair. She could not ignore the sickly feeling in her gut.

“Hold tight, Swan,” said the Captain, “This storm is going to be rough.”

Emma nodded and gripped the mast tightly. She wouldn’t be caught dead below deck when the waves pulled the ship beneath the surface. Her worst nightmares would soon become a reality. There was land nearby, and the Captain began sailing towards it, but then he changed course when the most beautiful sound reached his attentive ears. Suddenly he was heading straight towards a dozen sharp rocks protruding from the crashing waves.

“Captain!” cried Emma, “What are you doing?!”

“I— I’ve got to know who possesses such an exquisite voice!” the Captain declared as the rest of the men gathered around him in awe.

Emma, plus the two other women aboard the ship, stayed back and clung to one another in fear and desperation.

“He’s gone mad!” cried Ruby.

Lily’s eyes were wide with terror. “He’ll kill us all!”

“Just try to stay calm!” Emma told them, “Panicking like this won’t do us any good!”

“But what if we all drown?!” Lily snapped.

Emma’s jaw clenched and she turned to face the island. “Look there. The island’s not terribly far. If the ship goes down, perhaps we can come ashore on some driftwood.”

Strangely enough, that was exactly what happened. The ship crashed straight into the rocks, and in that very moment, all the men aboard were free from whatever trance they’d been pulled into. They all began to shout in fear and anger.

“Some _captain_ you are!” someone yelled, “You’ve killed us all, Killian Jones!”

The Captain cried out in terror, eyes wide as the moon, when his own crew grabbed him and hurled him overboard. The ship splintered and cracked as the jagged rocks pierced the hull, and down it went. The Jolly Roger, one of the most infamous ships to ever sail the sea, had just met its end.

“We’ve got to jump!” shouted Emma.

 _“You’re mad!”_ Lily and Ruby cried in unison.

“It’s the only way! We can make it to shore! You’ve just got to trust me!”

The two women exchanged a fearful glance, but nodded anyhow. They dove into the water after Emma and swam as hard as they could towards the island, aided by broken planks from the ship and the strong tide. They were soon joined by a handful of traumatized men, but the rest were forever lost at sea. Emma panted heavily, collapsing onto the cold, wet sand alongside the few other survivors. She stared up at the full moon with tears in her eyes while rain pattered against her pale face.

“Gods,” she whispered, “Why _me?_ Why let all those men die, but not me? What have I got to offer?”

She received no answer, at least not right away. She closed her eyes and the world slipped into darkness. The next thing she knew, she was waking up to the sound of screaming. It took her a moment to register what she was hearing. The sun was shining directly into her face, but when she realized what was happening, she shot up and saw a group of women in primitive clothing grabbing the remaining crew and dragging them towards the trees.

“Swan!” cried one of the men, “Help me!”

Emma struggled to stand, but found her footing and raced towards the man to fend off the savage woman, only to be restrained herself. She kicked and struggled, but the women who had grabbed her were not letting go.

“Release me!” she shouted.

This seemed to stun her captors.

_“This one’s a woman!”_

_“How strange of her to dress as a man!”_

They let go of her, and not far away, Ruby and Lily were released as well. Even so, the three women found themselves threatened with sharp spears to keep them from fleeing.

“What shall we do with these three?” asked one of the island women.

“Take them to the Queen,” said another.

“And the rest?”

“End them.”

 _“NO!”_ cried Emma.

She started to run, but the tip of a spear was pressed against her throat, stopping her. She could do nothing but look on in horror, tears in her eyes as she was forced to witness the rest of the crew have their throats slashed.

“You _monsters!”_

“Silence,” said the one wielding the spear, “Come quietly, and we will not harm you.”

Emma’s arms were bound with rope and she found herself, Lily and Ruby being led through the trees and towards a large hut made from bamboo, leaves and straw. Inside sat a stunningly-beautiful woman with dark hair and eyes. She was seated on what appeared to be a throne. This must have been the Queen she’d heard the island women speak of.

“My Queen,” said the woman with the spear, “we found these three women among the sailors. What shall we do with them?”

The Queen studied the three women closely, noting the fear in their eyes. Only one stood out to her. The pale one with a head of gold. There was no fear in this one’s eyes. Just fury and determination.

A faint smile graced the Queen’s painted lips as she gestured to Lily and Ruby. “Take these two away. I will decide what to do with them later.” Her smile widened when she locked eyes with the blonde. “As for this one,” she said, “I want her taken to my chamber.”

There was an eerie silence that hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity, but it couldn’t have been more than a few moments.

 _“Yes, my Queen,”_ the island women said in unison.

* * *

Soon, Emma found herself locked in a room with a table, a bed, and a few torches lining the walls, along with flickering candles scattered about the place. She wanted so badly to run, but she was no match for the strong island women with their spears, and she was in no condition to fight them. She was much too weak at the moment, both physically and mentally. She felt vulnerable. She felt alone. All she could do was sit and wonder what had become of her friends. At long last, the door opened and in walked the Queen.

Emma stood up abruptly, tightening her fists. “Where are Lily and Ruby?” she demanded.

The women behind the Queen started to reprimand her, but the brunette held up a hand to silence them.

“Leave us. I will handle her.”

_“Yes, my Queen.”_

The door closed and the Queen eyed Emma up and down with a faint smile. “Lily and Ruby,” she said, “I assume you mean your companions.”

“You assumed right,” Emma said bitterly, “What have you done with them?”

“Why, nothing, aside from invite them to a feast this evening.”

“A- A _feast?”_ Emma stammered.

“Yes, a grand meal for—”

“I know what a feast is!” the blonde snapped, “I just don’t understand _why_ you would invite us to one.”

“I invited _them,”_ said the Queen, “As for you, the two of us will dine in here tonight.”

Emma’s body grew even more tense. “What do you want with me?” she asked suspiciously, “What sort of game are you playing here?” She jerked her arm away when the Queen reached out to touch it. “Don’t you lay a hand on me!”

“I would mind your tongue, if I were you,” said the Queen.

With unnatural speed, her arm shot out like a vicious cobra and clutched Emma’s throat, sending a surge of terror through the blonde. She grinned madly with delight.

“There it is,” she said, “That fear. _That’s_ what I wanted to see.” She released Emma after a few moments and laughed softly. “What is your name?” she asked.

Emma glared at her, saying nothing. She grabbed Emma by the shirt and bared her sharp canines.

“I said, _what is your name?”_ she hissed.

“Emma,” the blonde spat, “Emma Swan.”

The devious grin returned to the Queen’s face. “There, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She leaned in close to whisper into Emma’s ear. _“I’m going to break you, little swan. I’m going to make you_ mine.”

And then she left the room, leaving Emma alone and in shock.

* * *

Hours later, when the sun had begun to set, Emma found herself sitting on the bed with her arms folded, staring out the window with a blank expression. The door opened, but she did not turn to see who had come in. She already knew. The Queen was followed by two island women who were carrying steaming food upon silver platters. Soon they were alone together once again. The scent of roasted meat made Emma’s mouth water and her stomach roar, but still she did not face the woman.

“Are you hungry, little swan?” the Queen purred. Emma said nothing. “Thirsty, perhaps?” Again, no answer. She frowned a bit. “You know, it isn’t polite to ignore someone who has offered you a warm meal. Will you dine with me? It’s a simple question. Yes or no? If you do not wish to eat with me, then you will not get another chance until tomorrow night.”

Emma sighed heavily and finally turned to face the brunette. “Fine,” she said coldly, “I will have dinner with you.”

An unnerving smile crept onto the Queen’s face as she clapped her hands together in delight.

 _“Wonderful,”_ she said, and without warning, she discarded her dress. It fell to the floor around her ankles and she laughed mirthfully at the shocked expression on Emma’s face.

“What’s the matter, little swan? Have you never witnessed the true grace and beauty of a woman?”

“W-Why have you—”

Eyes wide, Emma fell silent as the Queen sauntered towards the bed with a wild grin.

“If you wish to partake in a meal with me, then you must first earn your place at my table.” The Queen reached down and parted her labia, letting a lascivious moan escape her plump lips. “What do you say, _Em-ma?_ Will you taste my forbidden fruit?”

Emma stared at her in a mix of disgust and desire, the latter of which brought her immense shame.

“You want me, don’t you?” the Queen husked, “Yes, you want to touch me. I knew what kind of woman you were the moment I laid eyes on you. You dress as a man, spend all your time with them, and yet you never once let them have their way with you. I can sense these things, you know. I always have.”

She took hold of Emma’s hand and slowly brought it to her breast, pleased when the blonde did not pull it away. She closed her eyes and moaned wantonly as she clutched the blonde’s hand firmly against her breast.

“Touch me, Emma,” she breathed, “Worship me. From now on, I shall be your goddess, and my body your altar.” She pushed Emma down onto the bed and straddled the blonde’s lap, bringing the two fingers she’d had between her legs up towards those soft, pink lips. “Open up,” she commanded softly, “Taste what I have to offer you, my sweet.”

Emma did so against her better judgement, and nearly gagged when the Queen’s fingers went straight for her throat.

The Queen laughed in response, pulling her slick fingers away with a catlike grin. She moved so that she was hovering over Emma’s face and held tight to golden tresses as she lowered herself onto the blonde’s lips. Emma glowered at her, but did not resist her advances.

“Eat this,” she husked, “and then you may have a proper meal.”

She bit her lip when she felt a tentative tongue slide along her smooth labia, and stroked Emma’s hair in response.

 _“Good girl,”_ she purred.

Her heart swelled with pride when she saw a familiar spark in Emma’s eyes, and she began to rock against that beautiful face as the blonde’s tongue slid through her warmth again and again. Within minutes, she was brought to orgasm and her arousal spilled onto the blonde’s lips, tongue and chin. She grinned wildly when she both heard and felt Emma moan into her pussy.

“You’ve impressed me, my little swan,” she rasped, climbing off of Emma’s face and slipping back into her dress. Her face softened as she gestured to the table. “Come and join me.”

Emma did so with great reluctance, begrudgingly wiping her face off on her sleeve when the Queen wasn’t looking. She sat down next to the woman and stared at her plate for a moment.

“Aren’t you hungry?” the Queen asked her.

“I am,” she said quietly, “but I haven’t got much of an appetite.”

The Queen studied her intently before cutting off a piece of salmon and bringing it to her lips.

“Eat.”

“I can feed myself. I’m not a child.”

“No, but I’m certain you won’t eat anything if I don’t make you.”

Emma locked eyes with the Queen and masked her face with a stoic expression before accepting the offered salmon. The Queen nodded curtly and pulled the fork away.

“Now eat,” said the brunette.

And so Emma did.

* * *

Later that evening, after she’d had her fill, Emma went to sit on the edge of the bed closest to the window and stared out at the moon with a blank expression. She regarded the Queen over her shoulder when she felt a dip in the bed. The Queen placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Emma said softly.

The Queen was silent for a moment. “Why do you sail with men?”

“Because it’s the only place I’ve ever been able to be myself,” said Emma, “Pirates don’t care how women dress. They don’t care about a lot of things. It was very liberating, despite the stigma. We didn’t do much raiding on land. We just hijacked other ships— mostly the King’s.”

“And what would you say if I told you my people have recovered some of the treasure from your ship?”

Emma gaped at her. “You did? Did you, um, find anything else?”

The Queen held up a familiar object. A silver hook, polished to perfection. Emma’s heart sank when she saw it.

 _“Captain,”_ she whispered.

“Pardon?”

“This hook,” said Emma, “it belonged to our Captain, Killian Jones. He wore it where his hand used to be. That’s why they called him _Hook.”_

The Queen offered it to the blonde. “Then you should have it.”

Emma smiled faintly and nodded as she took it. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“Of course,” said the Queen, “I have no use for such things.” She paused a moment. “You know, when the two of us are here alone, you may call me Regina.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind Emma’s ear. “I look forward to hearing it on that talented tongue of yours,” she husked.

Emma ran her fingers over the hook, averting her gaze back towards the moon. She had nothing more to say.

* * *

Night after night, Emma pleasured the Queen in exchange for her evening meals, and each time she did, it became slightly less humiliating. She almost started to enjoy it herself, which didn’t terrify her as much as it should have. After asking repeatedly about the whereabouts of Lily and Ruby, the Queen finally gave her an answer.

“I will take you to them,” said the brunette, “just so I don’t have to hear you ask anymore.”

She led Emma out onto the beach and towards a small patch of land hidden away behind the rocks that had sunk the Jolly Roger. Lily and Ruby were dressed like the rest of the island women, dancing and laughing around a fire as a wild boar roasted over it.

“It would seem they’ve come to embrace our way of life,” the Queen said proudly. She brought a hand to Emma’s shoulder. “But the question is, will _you,_ my little swan?”

Emma clutched at the hook hanging from her neck. “I don’t have an answer for that just yet,” she said.

The Queen watched her intently. “Fair enough— though I believe it would be best if you did.”

Emma stared out at the ocean with sorrow in her eyes. “I’ve never been big on conformity,” she said.

The Queen just stared at her with an odd expression, but said nothing.

* * *

Two days later, the Queen was lying beside Emma in bed, stroking the blonde’s hair as they watched the sunset. Well, she seemed to be paying more attention than Emma, as the pirate’s eyes were currently fogged over.

“It’s begun,” she murmured, kissing Emma’s temple, “You’re very strong-willed, little swan, but the island’s magic has finally reached you. Now you can be one of us— _forever.”_

A faint smile made its way onto Emma’s face. Her eyes remained cloudy. “Maybe this place isn’t so bad, after all,” she said.

Once the sun had gone down, Emma followed Regina out to the patch of land behind the rocks where the other women were hiding out, and together they all began to sing. A ship was approaching.


	21. Nuke

The Third World War lasted a total of nine hours, from the time the US, North Korea and Russia all threatened to destroy each other to the time when they launched the nukes. It was unclear who actually fired at who, but in the end, it really made no difference. Nearly all of the States were eradicated, Russia was crumbling, and North Korea was wiped out along with its neighbor to the south.

What happened afterwards baffled everyone. It only happened to a select few, but for some inexplicable reason, the blast left people with _abilities_ thought to only be possible in the realm of science-fiction and comic books. It was impossible to tell who had these abilities simply by looking at them, which was what led everyone to be wary of each other. Those with supernatural powers were colloquially deemed ‘Nukes,’ a name many found derogatory, while others embraced it and wore it like a badge of honor.

At this very moment, Emma Swan was leading her son Henry through the wasteland that was once Boston. An ex-Marine, she had her gun in her hand with the safety off and was scanning her surrounding with her sharp eyes. They didn’t call her _the Dagger_ for nothing. She may not have had abilities like Henry, but she managed well enough. She would do whatever it took to protect her son, even if that meant forbidding him from using his powers out in the open.

They were making their way to a safe haven for Nukes called Storybrooke. It was somewhere in the woods of Maine, one of the few places unaffected by the blast. Emma had heard there was still vegetation there, and even some animals, though she didn’t want to get her or Henry’s hopes up. With Henry’s gift, as she liked to call it, he could easily create food out of thin air if he wanted, but again, she didn’t want the wrong people seeing the incredible power he possessed.

As they were walking through the deserted streets of Boston, they came upon a black Mercedes Benz that was in near-perfect condition. Emma’s eyes lit up like Christmas as she rushed towards it, and Henry followed in confusion.

“Mom? What’s going on?”

“I might be able to hot-wire this bad-boy,” Emma told him, “God, I hope there’s still gas in the tank.” She tugged at the handle, and to her surprise, it opened right up. “Hop in, kid.”

Henry went around to the other side and climbed into the passenger seat while his mother started to hot-wire it. That was when they both heard someone shouting at them from a few yards up ahead.

_“What the hell are you doing?!”_

The two of them looked up, startled, to see a figure approaching them briskly. The figure was dressed head to toe in black, even donning a black ski mask and dark sunglasses. Emma held up her gun as a sign of intimidation and placed her finger on the trigger, but this did not deter the stranger.

“Henry, stay down,” she told him, and he didn’t hesitate to obey.

“What are you doing to my car?!” the stranger demanded.

Emma lowered her gun when she realized the figure was a woman, but she remained wary anyhow.

“Sorry,” she said halfheartedly, “Finders keepers. Isn’t that how it works nowadays?”

“No! This was mine, even before— well, _you know.”_

Emma eyed the woman up and down suspiciously. “What’s with the mask? You some kind of burglar? You’re lucky no one’s shot you, all dressed up like that.”

“No,” said the mysterious woman, “I’m just— I’m just trying not to get anyone else killed, alright?”

“What do you mean?”

“Forget it. Can I have my car back, please?”

Emma frowned. “I’ve got a kid here with me, lady. We need to get to Maine.”

The woman was silent for a moment. “You’re going to Storybrooke, aren’t you?” she asked softly.

“Yeah,” said Emma.

“Well, so am I. I stopped here to look for food, but I couldn’t find any.”

“And you won’t,” said Emma, “Not in these parts.” She thought it over for a bit. “Why don’t we all go together?”

“We don’t even know each other.”

Emma held out her hand. “Emma Swan,” she said, “and you are?”

The woman hesitated before carefully shaking Emma’s hand. Her leather gloves were the only things keeping her from being discovered.

“Regina Mills,” she said softly.

“Alright, Regina. How about it? Wanna ride with Henry and me?”

Regina seemed to perk up. “Henry?” she asked, almost sounding hopeful.

Emma found this odd but didn’t question it. “Yeah. He’s my son.”

Regina’s shoulders fell. “Oh.” She hesitated. “Very well,” she said, “but I’m driving.”

Emma shrugged. “Fair enough. You might wanna let me finish hot-wiring it though.”

“You were hot-wiring my— oh, never mind.” Regina reached into her pocket, but froze when Emma lifted up the gun again. “I’m just getting my keys,” she said, pulling them out very slowly.

It was only when she saw the car keys that Emma lowered her weapon and climbed into the backseat with the gun across her lap. Henry looked back at her worriedly and she offered him a reassuring smile.

“It’s alright, kid. She’s harmless.”

Regina stiffened. “You’re wrong,” she said quietly, closing the door. She buckled her seatbelt and started the engine. The tank was nearly full.

Emma frowned. “What do you mean? Are you packing?”

“No. I’ve never liked guns,” said Regina.

“Then what’s so dangerous about you, huh?”

Regina gripped the steering wheel tightly with her gloved hands. “The blast, it— did things to me.”

Emma’s eyes widened in realization. “You’ve got powers, don’t you?” she asked.

The woman in black hesitated. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Well, you’re not alone. Henry’s got em, too.”

Regina peered at Henry from behind her dark glasses and the boy smiled at her. “Oh?” she asked, sounding relieved, “And what is it that you can do?”

Henry looked to Emma as if seeking permission and received a small nod.

“It’s alright, kid. You can tell her.”

“I, um,” Henry hesitated, “I can alter reality.”

“In what ways?”

Henry shrugged. “Any way I want, I guess,” he said, “but Mom doesn’t want me doing it out in public.”

“Well, she’s very wise, then,” said Regina, “It isn’t safe out here. You’re very fortunate to have her, Henry.”

Henry’s smile widened. “Yeah,” he said, “Yeah, I am.” He looked Regina up and down as she took off down the road. “How come you’re dressed like that? Did you get burned in the blast?”

 _“Henry,”_ Emma warned.

“No, no, it’s alright,” said Regina, “Let him be curious.” She paused for a bit. “I was burned, but those wounds have mostly healed,” she explained, “and they were only on certain parts of my body. It— It’s my powers that are the problem.”

“Mom says my powers are a gift,” said Henry.

“And how wonderful that must be,” Regina told him, “but mine are a curse. I’d do anything to get rid of them. You see, if I were to touch you, skin to skin, you would— God, how can I put this lightly? You would, well, _die.”_

The three of them were silent after that, at least until three hours later when the tank was finally out of gas. Regina pulled over onto the side of the road and let out a heavy sigh.

“Well, it looks like we’ll have to go on foot from here,” she said.

Emma nodded. “Alright. Let’s go, but we’ve got to keep our eyes peeled. The last thing we need is someone trying to mug us, or worse.”

“If they try it, I could just turn them into a bug,” Henry joked.

Emma just shook her head. “Very funny, kid, but let’s try to avoid that, okay?”

The three of them climbed out of the car and began walking up the cracked asphalt road. They couldn’t have walked more than a mile before they saw the sign. _Welcome to Storybrooke._

“It’s _real,”_ Regina whispered, “I— I can’t quite believe it.”

“We actually found it, Mom!” Henry said, clinging to Emma’s arm. He stared up at her with hope in his eyes.

“We sure did, kiddo,” she told him fondly, “We sure did.” She patted him on the back. “Let’s go.”

The trio made their way past the sign and towards a large gate up ahead. When they reached it, they were stopped by a pair of armed guards up on the walls.

“Drop your weapon!” one of the guards ordered.

Emma set her gun down slowly and kicked it away from her. The guards lowered their guns but did not open the gate just yet.

“You! Take off that mask!” one of the men barked.

Regina stiffened but reluctantly reached up to remove her sunglasses. She pulled off her mask, revealing a head of dark hair that framed a beautiful face. There was a small scar on her upper lip and a few faint ones trailing along the right half of her face, starting just below her eye. She sensed Emma and Henry watching her and smiled faintly, though it was clear that she was highly uncomfortable.

“Some face, huh?” she asked.

Emma smiled back reassuringly. “Prettiest face _I’ve_ ever seen, that’s for sure,” she said.

Heat rose to Regina’s cheeks as she turned away. “You’re just saying that.”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

This left Regina in stunned silence, but before any of them could say another word, the gates opened and an older man with long hair and a cane limped towards them. He offered a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Welcome to Storybrooke,” he said, “I’m Director Gold. Won’t you please come with me?”

“Can I keep my gun? I’d feel much safer,” said Emma.

Gold stared deep into her eyes. “To protect your son,” he said. He was silent for a moment, but then he nodded. “I’ll allow it.” There was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I tried to protect my son, too, but— well, let’s just say I didn’t succeed.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said sincerely.

Gold nodded once more. “Thank you.” His smile became genuine as he looked over at Henry. “You’re lucky to have each other.” He tapped his cane against the ground and turned back towards the gates. “Follow me, please. I like to screen everyone who comes here.”

“Screen them how?” asked Regina.

“I’m a mind-reader,” said the old man, not turning to face her, “and I know what you can do, Miss Mills.”

Regina was taken aback by this. “So, you’ll still let me inside, then?”

“The fact that you’re so concerned with not letting anyone touch you lets me know you’re no threat. Just continue to dress as you do, and everything will be fine.”

“Must I keep wearing this mask? It’s terribly uncomfortable.”

Gold paused and looked back at her with a smile of reassurance. “We’ll find a solution,” he said, “together. I give you my word.”

Regina breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Director.”

Emma picked up her gun, and the three of them followed Gold through the gates and into the compound. There was a second gate up ahead, but when it opened, they were in awe of what laid beyond. Fields of wheat, cotton, and rice. Gardens full of fresh vegetables and trees adorned with perfectly ripe fruit. Best of all, there were chickens, which meant lots of meat and eggs.

Seeing this brought tears to Regina’s eyes. “It’s so beautiful,” she murmured, “Like Heaven on Earth.”

“I’m pleased to hear you say that,” said Gold, “We have managed to sustain our produce in this controlled environment, but I’m afraid we haven’t got much in the way of meat aside from poultry and fish.”

“That’s good enough for me,” said Emma, “This is more than I ever could have hoped for.” She hugged Henry tightly against her. “What do you think, kid?”

“It’s so _awesome,”_ Henry declared.

Soon they were all settled in their new homes. Emma and Henry were in a decent-sized apartment in the middle of the compound, and Regina wasn’t too far away, but she would be living alone for her safety as well as everyone else’s. None were aware that at that very moment, Gold was in his office making a recording about the three of them, with information he’d discovered from reading their minds.

“Regina Mills, age forty, has the unfortunate ability to stop the hearts of anyone who touches her. I’m going to do my best to create a comfortable mask for her, so that should anyone touch her face, they won’t be harmed. By _anyone,_ I am of course referring to her companion, Emma Swan, age twenty-eight. They aren’t yet involved romantically, but I can sense they fancy one another. Of the three, Emma is the only one without any otherworldly abilities. Her son, Henry, on the other hand, is extraordinarily powerful. He is ten years-old, and can shape the very fabric of reality to his will. It is clear to me that he will not abuse this power, as he is quite obedient to his mother, but I cannot help but wonder what he would do if she was not around. I will not separate them for fear of what he might do, but I cannot shake my curiosity. Normally I would not allow our residents to bring weapons onto the premises, but I fully-trust Emma Swan not to use her gun unless it is to protect her son. It is clear to me that he is the most precious thing in her life, and I understand that overwhelming need to protect. It was the death of my own son that led me to create this compound, as a safe haven for those like us. I will do all that I can to provide security and stability for the people here. I pray they lead long and prosperous lives. So say I, Director Robert Gold.”


	22. Don't Scream

The thunder roared outside while the rain came down furiously. Hurrying into the abandoned castle, Emma closed the door behind her and pressed her back to it, panting heavily. She held up her lantern and looked around. There were leaves, cobwebs and old books scattered about the room, as well as some broken furniture. She saw a staircase and decided to look for a warm bed to rest in for the night. It had been so long since she’d slept in a real bed.

As she made her way up the winding stone staircase, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. She paused, listening for any sounds to indicate she might not have been alone.

“H-Hello?” she called.

She received no answer and continued her journey to the second floor. The moment she reached the top of the stairs, she was overwhelmed by the savory aroma of roasted meat. Her eyes widened in shock.

“Oh dear,” she said under her breath.

Someone _did_ live here. She started to turn and go back the way she’d come, but the voice of a woman stopped her dead in her tracks.

_“Leaving so soon?”_

Emma slowly turned to see who had spoken, but it was too dark to see. She lifted her lantern and still saw no one.

“Wh-Who’s there?” she asked.

 _“Lady Mills is my name,”_ came the soft voice.

Emma swallowed nervously. “I— I didn’t mean to intrude, Lady Mills,” she said, “I swear it. I was only seeking shelter for the night. I have no place to call home, you see. My apologies for any disruption I might have caused.”

 _“I am not angry with you. You have nothing to apologize for,”_ said Lady Mills, _“On the contrary, I am glad you are here. I’ve not had any guests in some time. Would you like to join me for dinner?”_

Emma’s stomach roared with hunger. “I couldn’t possibly eat your food. I have no way to repay you.”

_“Nonsense. There is more than enough for the two of us, and I expect no reward for my hospitality. All I ask is that you do not take anything from within this castle.”_

“I am no thief, my Lady, I assure you.”

 _“Then let us enjoy a warm meal,”_ said the unseen woman, _“and afterwards, you may stay the night in any of the guest rooms.”_

“You’re very kind, Lady Mills,” said Emma, “I can’t thank you enough.”

_“No need. I must go and freshen up, but I will have my servant escort you to the dining hall.”_

Lady Mills fell silent, leading Emma to believe she’d left, but there were no telltale footsteps. Emma jumped when she heard someone walk up behind her. She thought it was her host at first but then she turned to find a bearded man with a polite smile.

“Welcome,” he said, “Lady Mills has asked me to escort you.” He gestured to the darkness up ahead. “This way, please.”

He led her down a corridor as she held up her lantern, but she extinguished the flame inside once they entered the dimly-lit dining hall. There was a long table with a vast array of food, and the aroma left Emma’s stomach roaring with hunger. She looked to the bearded man with a faint smile.

“This is wonderful,” she said, “I’ve never felt so blessed. Lady Mills is a very generous woman. I look forward to meeting her properly.”

The man folded his arms behind his back as his expression became unreadable. “As I am certain she looks forward to your company, Miss…?”

“Emma Swan, and what do I call you, sir?”

“Graham is my name.”

“Are you the only servant here?”

“No, there are others, but only a handful. Lady Mills allows very few people to see her.”

“And yet I have that honor? A complete stranger?”

Before Graham could respond, he was cut off by the voice of Lady Mills. _“I am afraid, Miss Swan, that I haven’t been blessed with a face as appealing as yours.”_

“Oh, I’m sure that isn’t true—”

Emma paused when she saw the woman step into the light, donning a black dress, gloves, and a white mask that one would see in a ballroom. Lady Mills took a seat at the opposite end of the table where there was no light to illuminate her figure. Emma saw her remove the mask, but could not make out any of the woman’s features.

“I’m sure you must find this strange,” said Lady Mills, “but I have had many people run from me in terror. I would not wish for you to follow suit, Miss Swan.”

“I assure you, Lady Mills, I won’t run,” said Emma, “but if you wish to conceal your face from me, then so be it.”

She waited until she heard the woman’s utensils clink against the porcelain plate before she picked up her own fork and helped herself to the roasted salmon and pork laid out in front of her. She thanked Graham with a smile when he filled her cup with wine. It was sweet, more so than any wine she’d had before.

“Your wine is exquisite, Lady Mills. I’ve not had any in some time, but this is by far the best I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting.”

The woman was silent for a moment, processing this. “Do you truly mean that, Miss Swan?”

“Of course.”

“And is the food to your liking?”

“Absolutely. Your cook is wonderful, whoever he is.”

“Actually, my cook is a woman, but I am sure she would be pleased to hear you say that.”

Emma nodded and continued eating until her plate was empty. Only then did Lady Mills resume the conversation.

“So,” said the mysterious woman, “where do you come from?”

“Everywhere and nowhere,” Emma said vaguely, “You see, I’m an orphan. I’ve never had a place I could truly call home. Most of my life has been spent traveling the world.”

“I see,” said Lady Mills, “and what would you say if I offered you a permanent residence here? In exchange for your labor, of course.”

Emma’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You would hire me as a servant?”

“If you’re willing, then yes.”

“I would be honored, my Lady. You have shown me such kindness this night. I will gladly take you up on your offer.”

“Wonderful,” said Lady Mills, “You will begin working in three days’ time. That will give you the opportunity to grow accustomed to the staff and the castle layout.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” said Emma.

“You’re more than welcome, my dear,” replied the shadowy woman, “In the meantime, I suppose I should discuss the rules I have in place here.” She sipped her wine before continuing. “The first rule, one which I feel is the most important of all, is that you cannot mention me to anyone outside of this castle, be it verbally or in writing. You can never describe me, or there will be dire consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

Emma’s heart skipped a beat. “Y-Yes, of course, Lady Mills. I have no one to tell, anyhow.”

“Very good. The second rule is that you must never take anything that does not belong to you. If you do, I will know. I _always_ know,” the Lady said cryptically, “and the third and final rule is really quite simple: _don’t scream.”_

Emma’s brows furrowed. “Don’t scream?”

Her eyes grew impossibly-wide when the candles surrounding Lady Mills lit themselves as if by magic, and at last she saw the woman’s face. Staring back at her with glimmering eyes of amethyst was a creature with dark fur and a pair of black horns that curved back along its mane. Emma almost broke the third rule, but the only sound that escaped her was a whimper as the creature stood up.

“Very good, Miss Swan. You didn’t scream.”

“L-Lady Mills? What—”

“What am I?” asked the Lady, “To be perfectly honest, I’m not quite certain.” She approached Emma and stared deep into the young woman’s fearful eyes. “But you need not fear me. No harm will come to you, my dear, lest you break any of the rules I have laid out for you.”

“Have you always been this way?” Emma rasped.

“No, not always, but that is a story for another day,” said Lady Mills, “In the meantime, I will retire for the night, and Graham will show you to your quarters.”

* * *

Emma hardly slept that night. With the furious storm outside and the beastly face of her hostess, it was difficult to drift off. Even so, she was able to find rest in the end. She dreamed of Lady Mills holding her with clawed hands, in a way that seemed almost affectionate, and peering deep into her eyes as if in search of her soul.

_“I envy your beauty, Emma Swan. I was once as beautiful as you, but that gift was stolen from me. I yearn for the day I break this horrid curse, though my hope of ever doing so dwindles with every passing day.”_

* * *

The next day, Emma toured the castle and the surrounding orchard with Graham, but did not see Lady Mills until nightfall. Once again, they dined together, but this time, Emma found herself sitting directly beside the catlike being.

“You’re staring,” the Lady noted casually as she cut into her meat.

“I— I’m sorry,” Emma said quickly, averting her gaze, “I meant no offense.” She let out a soft gasp when the Lady’s gloved fingers lifted her chin gently, forcing their eyes to meet once again.

“None was taken, my dear. Just try not to gawk at me for too long.”

“Y-Yes, my Lady.”

Lady Mills nodded and pulled her hand away before continuing with her meal. Once she had finished, she wiped her mouth gently with a napkin and looked back at Emma expectantly.

“Come with me, Miss Swan. There is something I would like to show you.”

Emma reluctantly followed after the woman and soon found herself in an enormous library with hundreds of books. She was in awe, having never seen so many books in one place.

“What do you think?” asked Lady Mills.

“It’s incredible,” Emma breathed, “Have you read all of these?”

“I have, in fact, and you’re welcome to do the same. Just be sure to put them back where you initially found them. I prefer them in alphabetical order.”

“By author or by title?”

“Both,” said the Lady. She placed her gloved hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Do you enjoy reading, Emma?”

The blonde hesitated. “I, um, don’t really know how. I mean, I know some words, but not enough. I can’t really write that well, either.”

Lady Mills was silent for a bit, pondering this. “Would you like to learn?”

Emma blinked at her in surprise. “I— I think I would, yes.”

The Lady nodded. “Then I will teach you. Each night, after dinner, we will meet here for lessons. Does that suit you?”

“Yes, my Lady,” Emma said softly, “That sounds wonderful.”

And that was what they did. Emma began working in the castle as a servant, dusting the furniture and sweeping the floors. When night fell, she would dine with Lady Mills and then they would meet in the library for her lessons. This went on for many months, during which Emma finally learned the Lady’s given name. _Regina._ It was a beautiful name indeed, a thought which she made known to the Lady.

“Thank you, Emma,” Regina murmured, “I suppose I should tell you that I find yours lovely as well.”

Emma smiled sincerely at her. “Thank you, my Lady.”

The catlike woman paused a moment. “You know, when we are alone, you may address me as Regina, if you wish.”

This stunned Emma. “Are you sure?”

Regina nodded. “I am.”

It would be another two months before Emma found herself distracted during one of her evening lessons. She couldn’t help but observe the Lady, unable to look away. It was a short while before Regina noticed this and cocked her head curiously.

“Is there something you find particularly interesting about me, Emma?”

Emma offered a soft smile. “Forgive me. I just couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you are.”

“Don’t mock me, _Miss Swan,”_ Regina warned, “I have no time for your games.”

Emma shook her head. “I wasn’t mocking you, Regina. I meant it.” This stunned the Lady, but not nearly as much as the feeling of Emma’s hand coming to rest upon hers.

“You— You think I’m beautiful? Even like this?”

Emma nodded. “I can’t deny that I was fearful at first, but the months I’ve spent here have shown me that my fear was unjustified. You _are_ beautiful, Regina. You’re also intelligent and incredibly kind. I couldn’t ask for a better employer, or a better teacher. I’ll be forever grateful to you, my Lady.” She gave Regina’s hand a gentle squeeze, and she could see in those amethyst eyes that the woman was deeply moved.

* * *

That same night, Regina couldn’t sleep. She could think of nothing but Emma’s beautiful face, and how genuine the woman had been with her. She craved that sort of sincerity, for it was a rare gem she had only recently uncovered. She longed to experience it again. Unable to find rest, she left her chamber and made her way down the long corridor, heading down the stairs towards Emma’s room. She knocked gently at the door and heard Emma’s soft voice on the other side.

_“Who is it?”_

“It’s me,” said Regina.

Emma opened the door with a look of surprise, but smiled warmly and moved to let the Lady inside. Regina entered the dimly-lit room and found an old scroll with Emma’s childlike handwriting scribbled across the smooth surface.

“Working on your calligraphy, I see.”

“I am, yes.” Emma paused. “Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

Regina looked at the blonde with uncertainty. “I couldn’t stop thinking about earlier,” she murmured, placing her clawed hands on Emma’s shoulders, “It’s kept me from finding sleep.”

“My apologies. I—”

“No,” Regina said softly, “Don’t apologize. I wanted to see you, Emma.”

Emma’s smile returned, and heat rose to her cheeks. “Oh?” she asked, “Is there any particular reason?”

Regina stared deep into those soft, sea-green eyes and gently lifted Emma’s chin. “I can think of a few,” she husked.

Emma tentatively brought her hands to caress Regina’s soft face. “I think I know what you mean,” she murmured, “though I’m not quite sure how that would work.”

“You find me repulsive, don’t you?”

“No, Regina, I don’t. It’s just that, well, you’re covered in fur.”

“What would you have me do? Shave? Believe me, I’ve tried that, and it didn’t end well. If I did it again, then you’d _really_ want nothing to do with me.”

“Well, we could always just kiss,” Emma rasped.

She leaned in and pressed her lips to the edge of Regina’s mouth. The moment she did, a burst of iridescent light surged outwards like a ripple in a pond. They were both overcome with a sense of euphoria, and in a matter of moments, Emma found herself staring into the deep brown eyes of a woman with dark hair and olive skin. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

“Regina? Is that really _you?”_

The brunette stared at her now-human hands in sheer wonder. “By the Gods,” she whispered. She looked back up at Emma with tears in her eyes. “Yes,” she said, “It’s me.” She cupped Emma’s face in her soft hands and sealed their lips together in a hungry kiss. “I don’t believe my fur will be a problem any longer, dearest.”

Emma smiled. “What do you think this means, Regina?”

“Well, the witch who cursed me _did_ say that the key to breaking the curse was true love’s kiss. I never imagined I would live to see the day. Thank you, Emma. I owe you more than I can possibly give.”

“Well, how about another kiss?”

Regina was more than happy to oblige. “How’s that?”

Emma chuckled. “It’s a start,” she said, wrapping her arms around Regina’s neck. She leaned in so that their foreheads were together. “Let’s see where else the night takes us, hm?”

Regina couldn’t help but smile. “Why, Miss Swan, that’s a _marvelous_ idea.” She tapped Emma’s nose. “Just remember, my dear: _don’t scream.”_


	23. Copycat

Regina awoke in a dark room with her wrists bound to a chair with tight ropes. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the flickering light overhead. It was the only source of illumination. Her eyes widened in alarm when she heard the demented laughter of a man emanating from the shadows. Out stepped a man dressed all in black, with a large silver hook in his hand. He stared deep into her eyes as he brought the tip of the hook to her cheek and left a shallow gash in her skin.

“Consider yourself lucky,” he told her, “I’ve decided to do minimal damage to your pretty face, but I had to give you something to remember me by once you get to, well, _wherever it is you’re going.”_

Regina bared her teeth at him in primal fury. “You won’t get away with this, you son-of-a-bitch,” she hissed.

He laughed. “Oh, but I will,” he said, “As a matter of fact, I already have— six times now, and it’s about to be seven. You see, I’ve taken a few pages out of the D.J. Killer’s book and stuck to kidnapping pale brunettes such as yourself.”

“Do I _look_ pale to you?” Regina snapped.

“Perhaps not now, but I saw you from a distance and I just _knew_ you had to be mine,” said the madman, “Tell me something. Do you know why people call him the D.J. Killer?”

“Because there was always Davy Jones music playing at the crime scenes,” Regina said coldly.

“Very good. You know, I’m not much of a fan myself, but I think it’s an interesting calling card. Perhaps one day I’ll be known as the infamous _Talking Heads Killer._ What do you say, Regina Mills?” The man pulled Regina’s license out of his pocket with a wicked grin. “Are you a Talking Heads fan as well? You must have listened to them back in the day. I know I certainly did.”

“I have no interest in discussing musical taste with you, you _sick waste of oxygen,”_ Regina spat. She hissed in pain when the man backhanded her, leaving a hot sting on her cheek where he’d cut her.

“I’d watch my mouth if I were you,” the man sneered, “and you would do well to remember that you are completely at my mercy, you miserable bitch.”

Regina began to laugh darkly, earning a look of both anger and bewilderment on the man’s bearded face.

“What’s so funny?” he snapped.

Regina stared him dead in the face, no longer laughing. “The fact that you, a pathetic copycat, truly believe you could ever live up to the original Davy Jones Killer,” she said, pulling her hands away from the chair.

The man’s eyes widened. “H-How did you do that?! I made sure those ropes were secure!”

“You tied them exactly like your predecessor,” Regina said, rubbing her wrists as she stood up, “but even if you hadn’t, I still would have found my way out, eventually. I’ve always been an expert at knots.” She glowered at him with sheer hatred and fury, and that look alone left the man shaking in his boots.

“Wh-Who are you?” he rasped, aiming his hook at her.

She smirked in amusement. “Haven’t you figured it out?” she asked as she approached him, _“I’m the Davy Jones Killer.”_

* * *

Blood was everywhere. The man was barely holding onto his life. He’d been stripped naked, violently castrated, and his left hand was completely severed. Stuck crudely in its place was the hook he had been carrying. His body was riddled with cuts of varying sizes and depths. As Regina carved the letters _DJ_ into the man’s forehead, Davy Jones’ soothing voice emanated in the background.

_“Welcome to my love, darling, welcome to my life. Welcome to these sunny days, and tender, loving nights. Welcome to a world, baby, shining high above. Welcome to this heart of mine, babe, welcome to my love.”_

Regina grabbed the man’s dark hair and pulled his head back. He stared at her through half-lidded eyes as the life in them slowly drained away. She smiled at him proudly, as if admiring a quaint piece of art one would find in a museum.

“You know, I haven’t taken a life in so long,” she said, “I suppose I should be thanking you for reigniting that flame within me, _Killian Jones.”_ She eyed the bloody license she’d stapled to his chest and chuckled. “And to think you weren’t a fan of Davy. For all we know, you two could have been related.”

She pressed her knife to his throat and slice it wide open. He groaned and sputtered as blood oozed from his neck and lips, and a laugh escaped her while she watched the life leave his eyes.

“Something to remember me by,” she said. She leaned in to whisper in his ear. _“See you in Hell.”_


	24. The Piano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sad chapter! I repeat: S A D (short and depressing)!

Emma walked into the parlor, sullen as her eyes fell upon the grand piano. A layer of dust coated it, and she felt a wave of guilt wash over her. It was Regina’s piano, passed down through the Mills family for generations. _Regina._ Her beloved wife, torn from her arms by ovarian cancer. Tears threatened to fall, but she fought against them with everything she had.

She reluctantly approached the old piano and ran her fingers over it gently, leaving behind three streaks and traces of her fingerprints in the dust. Regina would have had a conniption if she’d been here to see the lack of dusting on Emma’s part.

A heavy sigh escaped Emma as she felt compelled to take a seat at the piano. She did so, opening up the keyboard lid and pecking gently at the lighter keys. Regina had loved playing the piano, and did so for a living at an upscale restaurant downtown, but this piano in particular was especially dear to her.

Emma did her best to play Regina’s favorite song, one she’d heard more times than she could count. _Fly Me to the Moon._ Unlike her wife, Emma was no musician. She knew the basics, but only because Regina had insisted on giving her lessons. She hadn’t been as invested in it as her other half, but now she found herself wishing she’d been more attentive. She broke down into tears, no longer able to hold them back.

She gasped when she heard the soft sound of clapping behind her. Turning quickly, she saw the oh, so familiar form of her wife, donning the dress she’d been buried in. Emma couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She rubbed her tearful eyes, thinking she was hallucinating, but the brunette’s semi-transparent apparition remained.

“Regina?” she whispered

Regina offered a warm smile, but there was sadness in her eyes. “Never doubt yourself, my darling. You play beautifully.”

Emma gaped at her. “I— no. No, that just isn’t possible.” The blonde’s tears fell harder now. “I could never be as talented as you.”

She approached Emma slowly, but her footsteps did not make a sound. She cupped Emma’s reddened face in her soft hands and wiped away the blonde’s tears.

“Don’t cry, Emma,” she murmured, “I’m no longer in any pain.” She pressed her lips to Emma’s in a feather-light kiss. “Please, dear, don’t be sad for me. The only suffering I feel is your grief. I love you, Emma Swan-Mills, more than I can possibly say.”

Emma’s lip trembled. “I love you, too,” she sobbed, “Please don’t leave me.”

“I’ll always be with you, darling,” Regina said, placing her hand over Emma’s heart, “in here.” With her other hand, she stroked her wife’s golden hair affectionately. “And for what it’s worth, I still have faith in you to make a name for yourself, but that doesn’t mean you have to play the piano. Follow your own path, Emma, and know that I’ll always be proud of you, no matter what.”

Her manifested form slowly faded away, but her scent— spiced apples and wine— lingered in the air.


	25. The Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another sad one, but mostly bittersweet.

Henry panted heavily as he reached the center of the woods, stopping for a moment with his hands on his knees while he struggled to catch his breath. His cheek stung from where his foster father had hit him for the fifth time that month. He couldn’t take it anymore. CPS wasn’t doing shit to get him out of there, so he’d decided to take matters into his own hands and run away. There were train tracks just on the other side of the woods. He would board one of the empty train cars and let it take him someplace new. He was certain that wherever it was headed would be far better than _this_ hellhole.

He’d been out here many times, exploring the woods for cool rocks to add to his growing collection. This time, though, he didn’t have time to stop and search. He sought only his freedom and safety. Instead, he came across something entirely unexpected. There, standing upright in a clearing at the heart of the woods, was a white door in its frame. It looked like it had been put there recently, and it seemed brand-new. Henry frowned as he slowly approached it, drawn towards it like a moth to a flame. Something was telling him to open it, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface before turning the knob.

He opened it reluctantly and his eyes grew wide with wonder when he saw not the woods, but a moonlit paradise with a glistening ocean, a beautiful cabin with large windows, and a bonfire burning nearby. He blinked quickly and rubbed his eyes, but he wasn’t hallucinating. He tentatively stepped through it and felt the sand sink beneath him, causing him to gasp in surprise. He looked back through the door, panicked when he heard the sound of his foster father shouting his name, and in a heartbeat, he grabbed the knob and swiftly pulled it shut. The second he did, the door vanished, and he heard yet another voice call out to him, but this time it belonged to a woman and was much softer.

 _“Hello,”_ came the voice, _“Would you like to join me?”_

Henry slowly turned to find a woman in a black _Ramones_ tank top and a pair of jeans with boots. He had never seen her before, that much he was sure of, and yet she somehow seemed familiar. His legs carried him closer to the fire where the woman sat. She was beautiful, blessed with olive skin, dark hair that barely reached her shoulders, and deep brown eyes that seemed inviting. Her ruby lips curled into a warm smile as she patted the empty space on the log beside her.

“Have a seat,” she offered.

Henry wasn’t sure why, but he felt he could trust the woman, and so he took a seat next to her. He looked at her with uncertainty as he shifted on the log.

“Um, what is this place?” he asked, “I mean, there was this random door in the middle of the woods, and then I was here— wherever ‘here’ is.”

Something in the woman’s eyes changed, but he couldn’t explain it. “If you had to guess, where would you say we were?” she asked softly.

Henry was visibly confused. “Um, I don’t know, Miami?”

The woman chuckled. “No, dear. Right now, you and I are somewhere at the edge of the universe. Time doesn’t flow here. At least, not the way it does _back there.”_

“What are you talking about? Who are you?”

“My name is Regina,” said the brunette, “It’s nice to meet you, Henry. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Forgive you? Wait a minute, I never told you my name.” Henry started to scoot away, but paused when Regina placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him in a loving manner.

“You didn’t have to, sweetheart. I already knew it.”

“But we just met!”

Regina shook her head. “No,” she murmured, “We’ve met before, many years ago.” She stroked the boy’s hair gently. “I named you after my father.”

Henry’s eyes welled with tears as a quiet whimper escaped him. _“M-Mom?”_

Regina pulled him into a warm embrace. “Welcome home, Henry. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Why— Why did you abandon me? Why didn’t you ever come _find me?”_ Henry sobbed.

Regina’s lips met his forehead in a light kiss. “I was in a dark place,” she told him, “I was addicted to pain killers. I had to put you into foster care until I got sober, but things didn’t exactly work out for me. I was mugged, you see, by a man who wanted money for his next fix. I didn’t make it. I couldn’t be there physically, but ever since I came here, I’ve been watching over you.”

“Didn’t make it? You mean you’re— _d-dead?”_

“My body died,” said Regina, “but my spirit lives on.”

“Does that mean this is Heaven?”

“Not quite. It hasn’t got a name as far as I can tell, but the weather is always pleasant, and everyone is content.”

“Everyone? You mean there are other people here, too?”

Regina nodded. “Yes. Good people. Old friends, some family I pushed away to fuel my drug addiction,” she said solemnly, “but all that is in the past now. Everything is good here.”

“Wait,” said Henry, his eyes widening in realization, “If I’m here, does that mean I’m—”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence. Regina hugged him a bit tighter, sighing softly.

“Let’s not think about that now,” she murmured, “You’ll never have to see any of the people who hurt you ever again. You’re safe here, Henry. We all are.”

“You promise?”

Regina nodded. “I promise.”

The two of them sat there by the crackling fire, not saying a word as they held one another tightly. In that moment, nothing else mattered. They were just two broken souls who could now piece themselves back together.

Back in the woods, a seething man towered over the body of a teenager with a revolver in his hand. His breath reeked of whiskey and cigarette smoke. Blood spatter stained his dirty clothing. He spat on the ground out of spite and disgust.

“Good riddance, you little bastard,” he grunted, picking up the shovel he’d brought along.

He began to dig, and once he had dug deep enough, he dragged the boy’s body into it. He froze when he heard a distinct growl coming from behind him and slowly turned to find a snarling wolf standing there with murderous intent burning in its eyes.

_“Fuck.”_

His screams of terror and agony rang out through the trees as the beast’s fangs tore into his throat. Suddenly he found himself in a dark place with only a glowing red orb to offer light. As he stared into the crimson glow, his eyes grew wide with pure fear.

 _“SOMEBODY LET ME OUT OF HERE!”_ he screamed.

No one was coming to save him.


	26. The Rejects

Emma sighed heavily as she left the meeting room and wandered through the hall of the community center in search of the restroom. She eventually found it and let out yet another sigh, this time in relief, as she emptied her bladder. She’d just come from her first AA meeting. It wasn’t mandatory, but her family had made her realize she had a serious drinking problem and so she forced herself to do better— be better— for their sake as well as her own.

It was just hard not to drink ever since her boyfriend, Neal, was killed. He’d been murdered in cold blood by his jealous ex. The alcohol was supposed to help numb the pain, but now Emma didn’t feel anything at all. She would do whatever it took to change that, even though she knew it would be difficult.

Emma sat there for a good ten minutes, contemplating the traumatic events that had led her here, before finally getting up and washing her hands. She dried them off and left the restroom, wandering back down the hall towards the exit. As she grew closer to the room where she’d just been in a meeting, she heard something that gave her pause.

_“Welcome, everyone. It’s good to see you all back here. I see we have some new faces, so I’d like us all to introduce ourselves. I’ll begin. My name is August, and I’ll be conducting this meeting as always. Why don’t you introduce yourself, Miss? And if you’re comfortable sharing, why not tell us what brings you here tonight?”_

_“Yes, hello. My name is Regina, and I’m what you would call a vampire. I’m here to work on controlling my bloodlust.”_

_“Thank you for sharing, Regina. Would you mind telling us when you last had a drink of blood?”_

_“Um, just two nights ago, during the full moon. I fed on a deer like usual.”_

_“That’s good,”_ said August, _“Have you ever fed from a human?”_

 _“I— I’d rather not talk about it,”_ Regina said quickly.

_“I understand. I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”_

_“It’s fine,”_ said Regina, but her tone indicated otherwise.

Emma stood there in shock, unable to wrap her head around what she’d just heard. She walked quickly past the door in an effort to keep from being seen, but someone must have noticed her through the window.

 _“Hey, August, there’s still someone here,”_ came a concerned man’s voice.

Emma froze dead in her tracks when she heard someone approaching and before she had the chance to flee, the door opened and she was left staring at a man— or at the very least, something that resembled a man— with bark and leaves growing out of his pale flesh. Half his face appeared wooden. He eyed her curiously.

“Can I help you, Miss?” he asked, “Are you here for the meeting?”

For reasons she couldn’t even begin to comprehend, Emma felt the sudden urge to lie.

“Um, _yeah,”_ she said, “I wasn’t sure if this was the right room. I’m sorry for being late.”

“It’s alright,” the man replied with a kind smile, “You’re just in time for introductions.”

Emma reluctantly entered the room and took a seat next to a brunette with a red streak in her hair. The brunette smiled at her in a way that left her feeling a bit flustered.

“Hey there. Haven’t seen you around here before. I’m Ruby.”

“I’m, uh, new in the area, and the name’s Emma.”

The tree man seemed to overhear this and looked to her with that same warm smile. “Welcome, Emma. My name is August. Would you like to tell everyone why you’re here today?”

Emma tensed. “Um, is it alright if I sit out on this one?”

August nodded stiffly. “Of course. Sometimes it’s easier to listen than it is to share.” He looked around at the others expectantly. “Anyone else willing to share?”

A dark-haired man on the other side of the room raised his hand— his only hand, as the other was replaced with a crude hook.

“Yes, Killian?”

“Are we going to be paired up again? I quite enjoyed that.”

“We are,” said August, “and I’m glad you asked, because I was just about to assign you all partners, that way you can help each other overcome your struggles and achieve your goals. I’d like to try to keep you in pairs, but we may end up having a group of three.”

August pulled a blank sheet of paper from his clipboard and tore it into small pieces, which he then handed to everyone in the room along with pens from an old coffee can.

“I’d like you all to write your names down and place them in the coffee can so I can pair you up.”

A few minutes later, everyone had done so, and August shuffled the paper scraps around. He pulled the first one out and smiled.

“Ruby,” he said, reaching in for another, “and— Victor.” He repeated the process until there were only two names left to choose from. “Alright, last we have Emma and,” he paused, “Regina. Now if you’ll all take a seat next to your new partners, we can get started.”

Emma looked around and saw an olive-skinned woman with dark hair and eyes watching her with a faint smile, and when the woman nodded, she assumed this was her partner. She approached hesitantly and offered an awkward smile.

“Are you Regina?”

“I am,” said the brunette, “and you must be Emma.” Her smile grew a bit wider, revealing a set of pearly white fangs. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Emma took a seat next to the woman, who continued to study her as if she was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Pardon my staring,” Regina said softly, “but I couldn’t help but notice you’re still human.”

_“W-What?”_

“Don’t worry,” murmured Regina, “I won’t rat you out. Snow, on the other hand, is incapable of keeping secrets. I’d avoid her like the plague, if I were you.”

Emma relaxed a bit. “So, uh, what sort of place is this? Are you really a vampire?”

“I am,” said the brunette, “Always have been— and these meetings are for those who don’t quite fit the cookie cutter mold of humanity. We’re the missing links of evolution. The rejects of society. This is one of the few places we can feel safe and welcome. So tell me, Emma— why have you really come here tonight?”

“I was in an AA meeting. I stayed behind a little longer than expected and, well, here I am. I don’t know why I lied. Something about this whole thing just piqued my curiosity.”

“Could it be the fact that you heard me confess to being a vampire?”

Emma smiled halfheartedly. “Something like that,” she rasped.

* * *

When the meeting finally ended an hour later, Emma and Regina walked out into the cold winter night together and smiled at one another.

“Will I see you again?” Regina asked tentatively.

Emma gave a small nod. “I’d like that.” She blinked in surprise when Regina kissed her cheek.

“Until next week, then.”

Regina started to walk away, but paused when Emma called out after her.

_“Regina, wait.”_

The brunette slowly turned back around with an arched eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Would, um— would you like me to drive you home?”

This seemed to stun Regina, but she smiled softly. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

Emma shook her head. “Not at all.”

Soon they were side by side in Emma’s old yellow Volkswagen, heading for the upscale apartment building on the nicer end of town. Emma was in awe.

“You live _here?”_

“Yes. Would you like to come in?”

“A-Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to be a bother. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“At this hour? On a Thursday night?” Regina shook her head. “Nonsense. It’s the least I can do. You did, after all, offer to drive me home.” She gestured for Emma to follow. “Come on. I’ll make you a drink.”

“Would I be wrong to assume you’re a fan of Bloody Mary’s?”

Regina laughed. “They’re alright,” she said, “but I prefer appletinis.”

The two made their way into the building and up to the eighth floor to Apartment 15. Regina opened the door and welcomed Emma inside.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll fix you a drink.”

Emma took a seat at the kitchen table, draping her red jacket over the chair, and admired the décor within the luxury apartment.

“Nice place you’ve got here.”

“Thank you,” said Regina, “I’ve been living here for three years now. Most of the residents here are, shall we say, _nocturnal.”_

“Like vampires?”

“Some are, some aren’t. There are a lot of werewolves.”

“I thought vampires and werewolves hated each other?”

“Some still do,” said Regina, “but most of us have learned to put our differences aside. Why, there’s a werewolf just down the hall— Quinn is his name. He’s a bit smug, to be quite honest, but I have no quarrel with him.”

Emma was silent for a moment. “So, um, you really won’t tell anyone at the meeting that I’m human?”

“Of course not.”

“But why? What do you have to gain by keeping this a secret?”

Regina smiled softly at the blonde. “You see, Emma, I can sense you’re troubled. Human or not, we’ve got to stick together. When I first laid eyes on you, I saw a vulnerable woman who needed someone to help her, and I decided to be that someone. That was why I willed you to lie, and August to pair us up.”

Emma’s brows furrowed. “Wait, what? ‘Willed me?’ You mean like _mind control?”_

“No, dear. The choice was still very much yours. I simply planted the idea in your head.”

“Do you do that often?”

“No. Just on occasion, when I’m feeling threatened,” Regina explained, “It isn’t something one should abuse, but unfortunately, many do.”

“How do I know if someone is doing that to me?”

Regina sighed softly as she handed Emma a drink. “I suppose you don’t,” she said.

Emma took the drink reluctantly. “Are you doing it right now?”

“No, Emma, I promise I’m not,” Regina insisted, “I told you, that sort of power isn’t to be abused.”

“Then why do I have the sudden, overwhelming desire to kiss you?” asked Emma.

Regina blinked at her in surprise. “You— You want to kiss me?”

Emma’s face reddened. “Damn. I guess you really aren’t behind that.” She scratched her head awkwardly. “I, uh, well— yeah. I do want to kiss you, Regina, because you’re a beautiful woman and you’ve been nothing but kind to me tonight. I really needed that, so, um, thanks for using your vampire powers on me.”

Regina sat down across from the blonde and sipped her own drink. “You’re welcome dear,” she said, “but now you’ve got my attention. Is kissing me the only thing on your mind tonight?”

Emma’s cheeks became even redder. “U-Um….”

Regina leaned in slowly, staring deep into Emma’s wide eyes. “Be honest, _Em-ma,”_ she purred. She moved so that her face was mere inches from her guest’s. “Would you like to sleep with me tonight?”

“No mind powers?” asked Emma.

Regina shook her head. “No mind powers,” she assured, “I promise.”

“Then, yes,” Emma whispered, “I would.”

And she did.

When dawn came, Emma awoke with a groan and a dull ache in her head and a sore feeling in the side of her neck. She felt around on her neck and found a small pair of bite marks there, as well as on her left shoulder and her inner left thigh. Her eyes grew wide with alarm before Regina stirred beside her and regarded her with a fond smile.

“Mm, morning,” the brunette said softly.

“Morning,” said Emma, “Did, um— Did you, like, turn me into a vampire?”

Regina chuckled. “No, dear. That isn’t possible. You’re either born a vampire or you aren’t. It’s genetic, not contagious.”

Emma breathed a sigh of relief and lied back down next to the brunette. “So, uh, what happens now? Do you have to sleep during the day?”

“On and off,” said Regina, “I suppose I should mention I’m only half-vampire. The sun doesn’t affect me as strongly as pure-bloods.” She placed her hand on Emma’s forearm and stroked it gently. “Why don’t you lie back down, hm? I love your scent. It reminds me of the ocean.”

She closed her eyes and hummed in satisfaction as she took in Emma’s scent. The rush it gave her was euphoric.

“I suppose now is as good a time as any to mention you can no longer be willed by any other vampire,” she murmured.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I was the first to drink your blood. I’ve essentially laid claim over you.”

“I belong to no one,” Emma started to object.

“That isn’t what I meant,” Regina told her, “I meant that no one else can drink your blood, or will you to do what they want.” A loving smile graced the brunette’s lips. “You’re under my protection now, Emma. _Always and forever.”_


	27. The Monster Slayer

At last, Emma had scaled the mountaintop. It wasn’t easy, by any means, but she’d endured far more difficult tasks. She drew her enchanted sword from its scabbard and gripped it with both hands as she entered the colossal doors of the castle. She’d been sent here on a mission by a Duke to eliminate the monstrous giant who lived within the stone walls. She had never faced a giant before, but it couldn’t have been any more dangerous than a dragon, and she’d killed _many_ of those.

As she crept through the enormous corridors, she was nearly knocked off her feet when the entire castle began to shake. She gasped, grabbing onto the leg of a gigantic table for balance. She frowned a bit when she heard someone sobbing uncontrollably. It was definitely nearby. She continued her quest and soon found herself outside the door to what appeared to be a bedroom. She peered inside discreetly and saw a gargantuan woman sitting before a crackling fire within a mantel. She started to make her way inside, but when she did, she accidentally bumped into the door-frame and her armor rattled. Gasping, she jumped back as the giant woman began to turn around.

A heavy sigh escaped the giant. “Don’t bother. I know you’re there,” she said, sounding defeated, “Just come out where I can see you. I could use the company, whoever you are.”

Perhaps against her better judgement, Emma reluctantly stepped into view and the giant arched an eyebrow at her.

“A knight? Let me guess, you’re here to slay me.” The giant sighed once more. “Do your worst. I truly don’t care one way or the other. I’ve got nothing left to live for.”

This stunned Emma. She reached up and removed her helmet to get a better look at the giant, who in turn seemed intrigued by her presence.

“You’re a woman? Interesting.” Wiping her tears away, the giant turned back around and continued staring into the dancing flames. “I’m assuming the Duke sent you.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, do what you must. I won’t stop you.”

“That’s it? You’re not even going to try and crush me?”

“Heavens, no. The last thing I need is your blood and bones all over my good shoes,” said the giant. She was silent for a moment. “May I know who it is that seeks to kill me?”

“Emma.”

“Hm. What a lovely name,” said the giant, “My name is Regina— not that _you_ care. Why don’t you join me by the fire? I’d like to have a few final words.”

“How do I know you aren’t stalling?”

“Why would I need to stall? I could destroy you right here and now if I wanted. Consider yourself lucky I’m a pacifist.”

Emma reluctantly approached, tightening her grip on her enchanted sword. “If you try anything, I _will_ kill you.”

“You’ll kill me regardless,” said Regina. She didn’t bother facing the young woman. “You see, I recently lost my father. He was all I had left in this cold, cruel world. The only light left to comfort me in the darkness. I buried him beneath the old apple tree in the garden out back.”

“What was his name?” Emma asked softly.

“Henry.”

“It must have taken you a long time to bury him.”

“Not really. He was still human.”

Emma frowned. “What? If he was human, then how—”

Regina rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t always like this,” she said, “My own mother cursed me. She wanted me to marry a cruel King, but I refused, because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with a stable boy. She used dark magic to turn me into a giant, so that no man could ever love me.”

“What happened to her?”

Hatred burned in Regina’s eyes. “I crushed her. That was the only time I’ve ever taken a life.” Her face softened a bit when she looked down at Emma. “So what now, knight?” she asked, “Aren’t you going to kill me?”

“I— I’m not sure,” Emma confessed, “Now that I’ve gotten acquainted with you, I don’t understand why the Duke would want you dead.”

“Why else? I’m a giant. He doesn’t need any other reason. I’ve done nothing to hurt him or his people. I just stay up here in my lonely castle where no one has to see me, and yet I’m still somehow a threat.”

Emma slowly sheathed her sword. “I’m not going to kill you,” she said firmly, “I don’t think I have it in me. You’re right, Regina. You haven’t done anything to warrant murder.” Guilt came over her. “I suppose none of the other creatures have, either, aside from a few rogue werewolves and some vicious dragons.”

Regina took a deep breath. “You’re the one they call the Monster Slayer, aren’t you?” she deadpanned.

“Well, yes,” Emma said, scratching her head awkwardly, “but it never occurred to me that maybe _I_ was the monster.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster, Emma. You were simply misguided,” said Regina, “but I pray you find the right path before it is too late.” She held open her hand expectantly. “Get on,” she said, “I’d like to get a better look at you.”

Emma did so with great reluctance, gasping softly when she felt herself being lifted into the air. She was now eye to eye with Regina. The giant’s painted red lips curled into a faint smile.

“You're quite beautiful,” said the brunette, “and yet you engage in such hideous tasks. What led you down this road, Emma?”

“Well, a monster killed my parents when I was very young,” Emma said sadly, “I guess I’ve just been taking out my anger on anyone— and any _thing—_ I possibly could.”

“But have you eliminated the one who took your mother and father?”

“No,” Emma whispered, hanging her head in shame, “I’ve never been able to find him. He had a face like a reptile, and his teeth were foul and rotten. He reeked of death and decay. I’ll never forget that demented laugh of his, just as I’ll never understand why he didn’t kill me, too.”

“Because he wanted you to suffer,” Regina said softly.

Emma stared at her in shock. “You know who he is?”

“I believe I do. If I’m not mistaken, that man is the Dark One, a very powerful and dangerous demon. It was he who gave my mother the knowledge to curse me. We’ve both been wronged by him, Emma. Why not work together to defeat him? Maybe then I could find a way to reverse the curse, and have an entirely new reason to live.”

Emma couldn’t help but smile. “I like the way you think, Regina. Forgive me for ever wishing to kill you.”

Regina laughed softly. “I suppose I should come clean. You couldn’t have killed me if you tried, even with that enchanted sword of yours. It simply isn’t big enough to inflict anything more than a superficial cut.”

“Then why did you make me think you wanted to die?”

“Because I had no hope,” said Regina, “and I _did_ want to die— but now things have changed. Thank you, Monster Slayer.”

Emma shook her head. “Like you said, things have changed. I think it’s time my title did the same,” she said, “From now on, I’ll just be Emma Swan.”

“Swan,” Regina murmured, “Graceful and strong. It suits you.” She reached up and gently stroked Emma’s cheek with her fingertip, chuckling when Emma became tense. “My apologies. It’s just been so long since I had any sort of physical contact.” She smiled warmly at the blonde. “I think it’s about time I left this castle, and I’ll gladly take you with me.”

Emma nodded. “I’d be honored."


	28. The Cemetery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short but sweet.

It was the dead of night, and Killian was sneaking into the old cemetery with a shovel, a bag and a flashlight. The moon was full, the sky was dark, and the winter air was as cold as death. He climbed up a small hill where a woman named Regina Mills was buried beneath a tall apple tree and began to dig. Within two hours, he had finally managed to reach the coffin below the grassy surface. He tossed his shovel down and climbed into the six-foot hole to pry open the casket, grinning like a madman.

He’d heard the stories before, and seeing how it was Halloween, he figured he might as well have a bit of fun. The local legends claimed that Regina Mills had been a witch, and that her casket contained vast riches and mystical artifacts that could resurrect the dead from beyond the grave. He couldn’t have cared less about magic or hexes or anything like that. He just wanted to find out what sort of treasure Regina had been buried with.

When he finally managed to open the casket, Killian frowned in utter confusion. There was no treasure inside. No mystical artifacts. He scratched his head, unsure what to make of what he was seeing— or rather, what he _wasn’t_ seeing.

There was no body in the coffin.

His eyes grew wide in shock and disbelief as realization crept into his mind. He backed away quickly, only to bump into something solid. He stumbled a bit as he turned around, only to find a brunette staring coldly at him.

“You’ve dug up my grave.”

“I— I just wanted to see if the stories were true! I wanted to see if there was treasure!”

Killian started to run, but the woman grabbed his arm with impossible strength and began dragging him back towards the dug up grave. He gasped in fear when he saw that her eyes were now catlike, glowing eerily in the darkness.

“W-What the fuck are you?!”

The woman bared her teeth, and Killian saw that she had sharp fangs like a wild animal. This made his blood run cold and his heart pound like thunder.

“I’m the woman whose grave you’ve just dug up!” she roared, “And now it’s your turn to go to sleep!”

With her now-clawed fingers, she tore his left hand clean off and reveled in his screams of excruciating pain and agony. She then struck him in the chest, shoving him back at full-force so that he fell into the deep pit, and she grinned wickedly at him as the earth began to pile back into the hole. His screams were soon silenced by the compact dirt, and the grass grew back impossibly-fast. It was as if there had never been a hole to begin with, and in a matter of moments, the letters engraved in the tombstone began to shift around.

_**Here lies Killian Jones** _

The woman hummed a soft tune as she turned and left the gravesite, heading down the hill towards a nearby headstone belonging to an old flame of hers, Emma Swan. She smiled faintly as she knelt down before it, running her fingers over the marble slab.

“Emma,” she murmured, “It’s me, Regina. I’ve finally escaped my prison.”

She chanted quietly in an ancient language and in a matter of moments, the ground before her began to shake and crumble. She stepped back and watched with tears in her eyes as the coffin below opened up, and out came a blonde with creamy, pale skin and eyes as green as the sea. The disoriented blonde blinked up at her in utter confusion.

_“R-Regina?”_

Regina offered a warm smile along with a helping hand, pulling Emma out of the ground and clutching the blonde’s hands gently.

“Welcome back, my darling. It’s so good to see you again.”

Emma was in shock. “How is this even happening? We’re supposed to be dead!”

“It’s All Hallows Eve, dearest. Should we be dug up from our graves, we can return from the other side,” said Regina, “and now we can both have a second chance at life.”

“Someone _dug you up?”_ Emma asked incredulously.

Regina nodded. “Yes, but he won’t be bothering anyone— at least, not for the foreseeable future. Perhaps one day someone else will come along to rob his grave.” She cupped Emma’s face gently and they shared a sweet kiss. “Come, my dear. Let’s find out what this world has to offer us.”

“How long do you think it’s been?”

“Long enough, Emma,” murmured Regina, _“Long enough.”_


	29. Under the Covers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter :) inspired by TikTok. (Yes, I have a TikTok)

Having just gotten off work, Emma walked into the house and called out for her wife as she did every afternoon, but got no response.

“Regina?”

Still nothing.

She knew Regina was home, having seen the Benz parked out front, so maybe the brunette was just in the shower. Emma could think of no other reason for the woman not to respond. She took off her coat and boots and made her way upstairs. As she approached the bedroom, she could hear snarling coming from within. The door was ajar, so she carefully pushed it open and saw that someone was in the bed, hiding under the covers. That was where the growling was emanating from.

“Regina? Baby? You alright?”

Red eyes peered out at her from the darkness. _“Go away,”_ came a deep, hissing voice.

Emma scratched her head awkwardly. “Well, okay then.” She turned to leave, but then paused when her wife called out to her.

_“No, stay!”_

Emma chuckled. “Which is it?”

 _“Bring me snacks!”_ There was a pause. _“Please?”_

“Sure thing. I’ll be right back.”

Emma hurried downstairs, grabbed as much as she could carry out of the pantry, and made her way back up to the bedroom. One by one, she began setting everything on the edge of the bed, and each time she did, a clawed, monstrous hand would dart out from beneath the covers and snatch it up like a hungry cobra. Sour gummy worms, Takis, cream soda, chocolate, and even their beloved cat, Henry.

 _“Thank you,”_ came a grunt from under the covers.

Emma smiled. “You’re welcome, baby. Anything else I can do?”

For a moment she was met with silence. _“Cuddle with me?”_

Emma’s smile grew wider. “Absolutely.”

She circled the bed and climbed under the covers, only to be snatched up just like everything else. In the midst of all this, Henry raced out from the darkness and left the room quickly. Emma found herself caged in the arms of her cranky wife, whose monthly cycle brought on a few _unusual_ changes.

“How long do you have?” she asked softly.

_“Four more days.”_

Emma nodded and turned to face her wife with a loving smile. “Any pain?”

_“Yes, but it’s not so terrible now that you’re here.”_

“That means a lot to me, Regina. I’m glad to hear it.”

_“You’re welcome, dear. Oh, and Emma?”_

“Hm?”

_“Could you please get me some Tylenol?”_

“You got it. Anything for my Queen.”


	30. Trick or Treat

Things had not been easy since their son died, but Emma and Regina were getting by as best as they could. They’d both been unsure about handing out candy this year, but they ultimately decided that bringing smiles to the faces of the neighborhood children would help ease the pain. Besides, they felt it would be best to try and make this night as pleasant as possible, given that it was the anniversary of their son’s death, but that was easier said than done.

Even so, they waited at the door— Emma with her face painted like Otis Driftwood and Regina sporting a classic Evil Queen costume— and handed out candy to all the children who came to the door. Additionally, Regina did her best to persuade them to take an apple from the large bowl in her hands, but given her character’s reputation, they were quick to decline.

As the night went on, fewer and fewer kids came to the door, and the pair eventually ran out of candy. Just when they started to head inside, one last trick-or-treater came up to the door. The child was dressed in a simple skeleton costume with a plastic skull mask, but wasn’t carrying a bag or a bucket.

_“Trick or treat!”_

Regina smiled when she noticed him and stepped back outside. “Hello,” she said, “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but we don’t have any more candy. Would you like an apple instead?”

The child was silent for a moment. _“Yes, please.”_

Regina’s blood ran cold when she heard that voice. It was a young boy, one who sounded an awful lot like her deceased son. She brushed off the notion, mentally telling herself that it was all in her head. She forced herself to smile as she handed the boy an apple and he held it close to him as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

_“Thank you, Mommy.”_

Regina gaped at him, blinking quickly. “I— I beg your pardon?”

“I said _thank you, Mommy,”_ the boy repeated.

He lifted up his mask and bore a confused expression on his deathly pale face. There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, making him look tired and sickly.

Regina nearly fainted right then and there. _“H-Henry?”_ she rasped.

The boy smiled softly at her. “Hi, Mommy.”

Emma saw that Regina was talking to someone outside so she approached with a pleasant smile.

“Hey baby, who are y—" She gasped sharply when she saw the face of the six year-old staring back at her. _“Henry,”_ she whispered, _“Oh my God.”_

“Mama, you look scary.” Henry didn’t miss a beat before holding up his apple. “You wanna share this apple with me?”

Tears welled in Emma’s eyes as she brought a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Henry,” she sobbed. Heavy tears streaked through her face paint. Her lip trembled as a smile tugged at her mouth. “Of _course_ I do.”

“Can we go inside, please? It’s so cold.”

Emma and Regina welcomed the boy inside, equal-parts overjoyed and distraught. He shared his apple with Emma, though she couldn’t quite bring herself to enjoy it as much as he did.

“Henry,” Regina said softly, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found that he was solid, and not some intangible spectre. “Can I ask you something, sweetheart?”

Henry smiled at her. “Yeah.”

“Darling,” Regina hesitated, “how is it that you’re here tonight?”

Henry just shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said, “Everyone else left, so I went with them, and I ended up here.”

Regina and Emma exchanged a bewildered glance. _“Everyone else?”_ they asked in unison.

Henry nodded. “Yeah,” he said again.

“What do you mean, darling? Who is ‘everyone else?’”

“Everyone in the nice place,” Henry said matter-of-factly, “They left to see the people they love, but we all have to be back by sunrise. This is the only night of the year we get to leave.”

Regina kissed his temple. “Then we don’t we enjoy every moment together, hm? Would you like to carve a pumpkin, like old times?”

Henry’s smile widened, and he nodded. “Yes, please.” He paused. “Oh, and Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Don’t be sad anymore. Whenever you’re sad, it makes _me_ sad.”

Regina’s lower lip trembled. “I’ll do my best,” she murmured, pulling the boy into a tight embrace. How she wished she didn’t have to let go.

The three of them stayed up all night carving pumpkins, making paper ghosts and drinking apple cider. There were no more tears that night, but they certainly threatened to fall when dawn approached. Henry picked up his mask and made his way towards the door with both his mothers in tow. He opened it and turned back to them with a smile, hugging them one last time.

 _“We love you, Henry,”_ they said in unison.

Henry smiled. “I love you, too,” he told them, “I promise I’ll come back next year.”

He pulled his mask back on and headed back down the brick path towards the sidewalk. He looked both ways before crossing the street, and as he did, his body slowly faded away. Emma and Regina looked on in silence before exchanging a sad but hopeful smile. They laced their fingers together and headed back into the house with a rekindled spark in their hearts.


	31. Room 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it, you guys. This is the end. It's been fun :) Stay spooky, and have a Happy Halloween!

Emma was beyond pissed as she stormed out of the Hyperion Hotel with her suitcase. She’d come all this way just to be told there was no record of the reservation she had made more than a month ago, and now she had nowhere else to go. She drove to a nearby coffee shop to use their Wi-Fi and searched online for any other hotels in the area. She found a cheap-but-decent-looking place called the Regal Inn, just a few blocks away. She paid for her hot chocolate, having never been a fan of coffee, and was soon back in her car heading north.

She found the place and parked out front in the otherwise empty lot. Grabbing her suitcase, she went inside and approached the counter where a Hispanic-looking woman was waiting with a friendly smile.

“Hello,” said the woman, “Welcome to the Regal Inn. My name is Regina. How may I help you today?”

Emma smiled back halfheartedly. “Yes, I was wondering if you have any rooms available?”

“We certainly do,” said Regina, “I can book you a standard suite, or if you’d like to pay a little extra, I could put you in the deluxe. It comes with a hot tub and free room service.”

“Yeah? How much would that be, exactly?” Emma quizzed.

“Eighty dollars, ma’am.”

This took Emma by surprise. “That’s all?”

Regina nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, I guess I’ll take the deluxe, then.”

“Wonderful. Could I have your name, please?”

“Emma Swan.”

Emma put down the rest of her information and paid with her credit card, and afterwards she was given a black key with a tag reading _31_ attached to the end.

“You’ll be in Room 31, on the third floor,” said Regina, “Would you like me to escort you?”

“No thank you. I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

Regina shook her head. “It’s no bother at all.”

Emma smiled. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do. I’ll be alright finding it on my own.”

She made her way to the elevator and up to the third floor. Room 31 was at the opposite end of the hallway, straight ahead. She unlocked it and was left speechless by what she saw. There was indeed a hot tub, as well as a mini bar, which Regina had failed to mention for one reason or another.

 _“All this_ for eighty dollars? _Plus_ free room service?” she wondered aloud, “No fucking way.”

She unpacked her things and pulled out her phone to call her good friend, August.

_“Hello?”_

“Hey, August, it’s Emma. I just got to Boston. You’ll never believe this! I booked a room at the Hyperion like a month ago and they straight up told me there was no record of my reservation! They pretty much stole from me! Anyway, the good news is I got a room at this placed called the Regal Inn, and I got this awesome deluxe suite for just eighty bucks! It’s got a fucking hot tub and everything!”

_“Seriously? That’s insane, Emma. So where is this place?”_

“It’s on the north side, on—”

Emma frowned when August abruptly hung up, and was left blinking at the phone in disbelief. On the screen were the words, _‘No signal.’_

“Damn it! Of course this place has a downside! I should’ve known it was too good to be true!” She looked around for a phone but couldn’t find one. “What kind of hotel room doesn’t have a phone?” she muttered, “How am I supposed to get room service? This doesn’t make any sense.”

With nothing else to do, she figured she should at least try out the hot tub, and helping herself to the mini bar certainly wouldn’t hurt, either. She poured herself some peach Schnapps and stripped down before stepping into the steamy, bubbling water. She sank down into it with a blissful sigh and closed her eyes as she took a sip of her drink. Soon it began to rain, and the sky became dull and gray as storm clouds snuffed out the afternoon sun.

The sound of the soft, gentle rain lulled Emma into a state of peace and she began to drift a bit. She nearly fell asleep, but was jolted back into awareness when she felt something brush against her skin. She was left completely dumbfounded when she saw the object in question float to the top. It was a carrot.

“W-What the actual _fuck?”_

She grabbed the carrot and gawked at it in utter confusion. Before she could even begin to comprehend its presence there, another floated its way to the bubbling surface, and it was in that moment that Emma began to feel alarmed as the water grew too hot for comfort. Prior to getting into the tub, she hadn’t once adjusted the temperature. She started to climb out, but then the water turned disgustingly-dark and she felt nauseous, and to make matters worse, she could no longer move.

Suddenly, the door to the room swung open and crashed into the wall, and in stormed Regina. She no longer seemed so pleasant, nor did she appear quite as human as she had downstairs. Her hair was much longer and unkempt, her eyes held an eerie purple glow, and she had animalistic features. Ram-like horns had protruded from her skull. She was, by definition, a monster. Emma let out an involuntary scream at the sight of her.

_“What the hell are you?!”_

Regina let out a demented laugh that made Emma’s blood run cold. **“Hell, indeed.”**

She charged towards Emma, and only then did the blonde realize she had hoofed feet. Her clawed hands clutched the edges of the tub and she grinned wickedly, revealing her razor-sharp fangs as she took in the savory smell.

**“Yes, you’re coming along _very_ nicely.”**

Emma could only scream out in agony and fear as she was slowly cooked alive. All the while, the monstrous creature before her continued to laugh in her face, mocking her as she suffered a slow, excruciating death. Not long after Emma’s body sank beneath the scalding surface, the laughter ceased, and Regina dipped her hand into the bubbling broth to taste it. The heat had no effect on her. She hummed in satisfaction as the flavor overwhelmed her senses.

 _ **“Perfection.”**_ She snickered a bit. **"How amusing. You really thought the free room service was for _you."_**

She would be dining like a Queen that night.


End file.
